Harry Potter and the World of Dinosaurs
by Tellemicus Sundance
Summary: It's amazing how some of the smallest acts or inactions can shape the world around us. Running away from the Dursleys in a moment of fear was the first turning point of his destiny. Now he lives alone in the wilderness of a land long forgotten by the passage of time. However, the Wizarding World won't leave him alone in peace just yet. THE WORLD BENEATH - REWRITE
1. Consequences of Complacency

**.**

 **Harry Potter and the World of Dinosaurs  
** By: Tellemicus Sundance  
 _Chapter 1—Consequences of Complacency_

 **August 13, 1984  
The Hangman's Noose, Knockturn Alley**

It was a bad time to be a dark wizard.

After nearly twenty years of dominance, the once mighty dark powers that led the world through fear, greed, and murder had been abruptly toppled and scattered like glass. As what has always happened in times past and will continue to happen in times to come, without a strong leader holding the reins and directing the cutthroats in a singular cause, the self-righteous and self-serving dark wizards had immediately turned on one another.

Wizards and witches of noble blood and birth, once utterly untouchable through various means, were suddenly finding themselves being hunted down, either betrayed by their brethren or by those who knew of their wrongdoings. But although many were either captured or killed in the following manhunts, quite a few managed to slip between the cracks. Those in the Wizengamot and law enforcement were more focused and content to bring in the recognized or suspected Death Eaters and those of higher tier importance of the fallen Dark Lord's organization. As was typical, many of those upper-class dark wizards were of noteworthy and respectable Pureblood families and had long aspirant careers and lineages dealing with the dark side. Thus, this naturally made them high priority targets of the 'redeemed' Ministry.

Thus, excluding special cases, most of the common rabble who were little more than cannon-fodder to bolster the Death Eater ranks or who had joined out of fear were largely ignored and left free to roam and live as they wished. However, for every dark wizard that had joined out of fear of being hunted down, five more had joined out of complete devotion to the cause of purifying and/or controlling the filth that was contaminating their magical bloodlines.

As was the case for one particularly surly group of wizards who had taken up residence in the lone pub of the dark street. All of them were dark wizards, former members of the once-mighty and terrifying Death Eaters, all having been branded with the Dark Mark, and all currently in hiding from their brethren and the 'triumphant' Ministry of Magic.

"Bunch'a backschhabbing cow'rds!" seethed a wizard with a large, bulbous nose. He was rapidly approaching the point of being roaring drunk, having consumed copious amounts of the vile vodka-rime. The magical cold drink was far from the delicacy of gigglewater or the more widely used and favored firewhiskey. It was a cheap mix of Muggle vodka and ice magic. Thus, it was perfect for a poor wizard and meant to get him as sloshed as possible in the shortest amount of time. "If zhe dark lord wasch here, zhey'd schtill be cow'ring in zheir bootsch of usch!"

"Will you give it a _rest_ already, Dereth?!" a shallow, pale faced wizard demanded hotly. He was far less drunk and was still somewhat trying to hide under his cloak's hood from the wandering eyes of the other patrons of the dilapidated pub. "Complaining about ain't gonna bring our Lord back!"

"Oh, let him be, Hector," Lexis the Whore said, the only witch among the group. "It's better he lets it out now than later."

"And that'sch juscht what 'm a gonna do!" Dereth stated before chugging another large mouthful of vodka-rime. With a heavy exhale, an icy blue mist of alcohol breath blew from his mouth. "I don' tschink I kin liv' 'n a world tha' hasch zhozz _filthy_ _ami'nals_ it wi'out zhem firscht being prun'd an' pluck'd for z'e slaa'ter azz zhey _zho'd be_!"

"Ah, what a wonderful world that would be!" Garrett the Bold, the last of their little group, said. Nods of agreement from Lexis and Hector showed they at least shared the opinion, even if they didn't voice it. "But with how our _wonderful_ Chief Warlock and the overeager new Head Auror are so eagerly cleaning up the streets, that's not going to happen any time soon."

Loud growls of fury and disgust echoed around the group as thoughts of Dumbledore and Scrimgeour's work returned. Sadly, Garrett's statement was nothing short of factual. Both men were leading the charge against the Death Eaters and their work had been bearing a lot of fruit these past few months. There weren't too many Pureblood families left that hadn't felt the heavy chains of the prosecution chair over their shoulders as they faced the full fury of (and selectively emptied large amounts of their savings accounts into) the Wizengamot.

"You know," Hector said, a contemplative look on his face. "Pretty soon, they're going to run out of high-class prats to round up and bankrupt. Who do you think they'll go for next?"

The answer was glaringly obvious to all of them.

"What are you suggesting?" Lexis asked, eyeing Hector critically as she took a sip of her own vodka-rime. Blowing out her own small icy breath, she continued, "That we leave the country before that happens?"

"That would be the smart thing to do," Hector admitted, sipping his own goblet deeply.

"Bah!" Dereth barked disgustedly. "Zhe o'ly way zhey'll get me in zhat blwu'dy schair iz if zhey kill me firscht!"

"I agree," Lexis said resolutely.

"Yes, better to go down in a blaze of spellfire than end up in a cold cell with dementors for visitors," Garrett agreed, finishing off his own goblet.

After a long moment of silence, Garrett got an idea. It was a stupid idea, suicidal even. If he'd been any less drunk than he was, he would've realized that and dismissed it out of hand. But with the high concentration of liquid courage poisoning his veins, he saw his idea as nothing short of the pinnacle of utter brilliance. Thus, he let a lewd sneer cross his face as he said, "So why don't we?"

"What?" Lexis asked, the whole table turning to look questioningly at him.

"It's gonna happen anyway," Garrett stated, feeling more and more confident in his idea. "So why wait for the inevitable to come to us? Let's go out in a blaze of glory! _One last hurrah_ to celebrate the death of our _mighty lord_ to a _worthless puling brat_!" Such was the logical of a scorned drunk.

"Gr'at 'dea!" Dereth immediately agreed, far too far gone to not see the sheer stupidity of the action in question, or even see straight for that matter. And so it went, one after another, their little group agreed to the stupid plan and departed from the pub. They were in such an ecstatic rush to relive the good old days one last time that they utterly forgot to try and pay for their drinks.

* * *

 **Park, Surrey**

It was very dark out and little 4-year-old Harry Potter was getting very scared. He had been a very bad boy today at his relatives' house. His aunt had been trying to show him how to properly wash and rinse the dishes, saying that it was time he started earning his keep around the house. And while he didn't necessarily understand what she meant or why he and not Dudley had to do it, he feared her and his uncle's wrath too much to even consider _not_ trying to stay on their good sides.

But because he was still just a little boy, still figuring out how to properly walk and move about, learning to coordinate his limbs, he had quickly and accidentally broke one of his aunt's favorite plates (or so she said) as he was trying to dry it with a washcloth. He knew he was in trouble long before his aunt started shrieking in rage and grief over the broken plate. She had quickly bent him over her knee and paddled a wooden spatula on his small ass with all of her furious strength before shoving him out into the backyard. Harry, fearing more pain and torment would follow once his aunt had cleaned up the mess, had quickly used the small window of opportunity to rush around the house and run down the street.

Harry Potter had run away from the Dursleys for the first time in his life. But because he was still a young child, scarcely old enough to be considered not a toddler, he didn't make it very far. He had only gotten four blocks away from Privet Drive when exhaustion crept in. A conveniently nearby park was the perfect place for him to go to hide, rest, and hide some more. He knew he should go back to the house, but he was still so scared! And not only that, but he was also quite lost. He had never been allowed out of eyesight of his relatives' home before, as they were too embarrassed at having to put up with him to let him shame them by letting the neighbors see him. Thus, once the house was out of sight, he was hopelessly and completely lost.

So, he did the only thing he felt he could do. Stay where he was, where he was safe, and hope that someone _nicer_ than his aunt and uncle would find him and take him far away. Take him somewhere better, nicer, safer…happier? That was what he wanted to have happen. Surely, _someone_ would come around and try to help him. _Anyone_ was better than his relatives!

But as time went by, his hopes were quickly dashed. The people on the streets and sidewalk passed by him without comment. A few might've paused after spotting his forlorn form seated on one of the swings, but none approached him. He had started crying again until he had no tears left to shed. His mouth grew dry and his tummy started to hurt again in hunger. The hot sun beat down on his little shoulders, but he just stayed where he was. Fighting to keep the hope alive that _someone_ would come and save him.

Then, night began to fall. Lights lit up in the surrounding houses and businesses. Cars and people soon started heading home in a mass exodus. Eventually, the masses thinned out, the constant traffic died down, and the red sky turned black as the sun disappeared behind the horizon. And yet still no one came to him. He was all alone. He started to wonder, had been wondering ever since he arrived, had been wondering since he really started understanding that his relatives hated him. Was this his fate? Was he destined to be alone and scared, powerless and in pain, for the rest of his life? Was he really so worthless of a creature as that? Is that why he had been left alone? Why had his mommy and daddy (because he surely had some!) left him to this misery? Had he done something wrong to deserve this?

As more and more of these depressing thoughts and questions began floating through his mind, a wild, vibrant energy began to awaken within him. It wouldn't have been noticeable to most people at first. But they would've soon realized that something…phenomenal was occurring. Pieces of foliage, loose gravel, and grass had begun to shake to an absent wind, rising slowly into the air, as the energy continued to grow, seeking an outlet of some kind.

 _CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!_ Four simultaneous explosions of displaced air rent the area of the playground. Harry let out a small shriek of fright as he was jolted out of his melancholy mood and sent careening to the ground.

"Owie," he whined, rubbing where his head had hit the gravel ground behind him as he pushed himself upwards.

"Well, well," a loud man's voice suddenly said, quickly drawing Harry's attention. "What have we got here?"

Looking up towards the voice, Harry saw four of the strangest dressed people he'd ever seen before. They all wore what looked like black dresses of some kind that were embroidered with bits of silver and green stones or cloth, complete with big pointed black hats. But despite the rather interesting dresses they wore, all of them were filthy, smelling like Uncle Vernon whenever he was in an especially bad mood, and were leering down at him as though he was something distasteful that needed to be squashed.

"Would you look at that?" one of the men said, pulling out a long but thin stick that he pointed towards Harry in a clearly threatening manner. "We haven't even started yet and we've already found an animal to play with!"

"Wh-What?" Harry stammered out fearfully. "Wh-Who are you, sir?"

"Silence, whelp!" the lady snapped. Raising her stick, she brought it swishing downwards towards him while snapping out a word he didn't understand. " _Crucio!_ "

Harry barely had enough time to register the bolt of energy that shot from the tip of that stick before it struck him. When it did, he suddenly found himself awash with the most terrible, mind-wrenching, horrendous agony he'd ever felt before in his short life! This was worse than Aunt Petunia spanking him! It was worse than his uncle whipping him with his belt! And that time Dudley pushed him down the stairs and broke both his arms didn't even come close to compare! It—Was— ** _AGONY!_**

It could've lasted a second, an hour, or a year, but it didn't matter to Harry. But when the pain was finally let up, however long it had taken, it felt like he'd been held under it for hours. His body collapsed numbly to the ground, jolts of pain still twitching through his limbs, as he moaned out of a throat sore from screaming moments earlier. The lady and her companions were speaking again, but he didn't have the mental capacities to even bother trying to understand what was being said. He just continued to lay there, trying futilely to recover.

After only a moment, one of the men moved forward and knelt down next to Harry. At first, Harry had had a glimmer of hope that he'd apologize and try to help him up. Instead, the man grabbed a large handful of his long, spiky black hair, and pulled his head upwards so he could see his face. However, whatever he saw caused the man to immediately gasp out in shock, reflexively releasing Harry and causing Harry to collapse painfully back to the ground again.

His relief was short-lived however. The man immediately grabbed and pulled him up again, this time maintaining his hold while he swept back Harry's bangs. Holding Harry's revealed face over towards his friends, all of them gasped in shock, staring down at the barely-conscious boy in disbelief. Then, after a few moments of silence, wild laughter erupted from them as they gazed upon him with pride like he was little more than a trophy deer. Harry let out a whimper, finally managing to gain some mobility in his limbs again and tried to pull away. But the man tightened his grip on Harry's hair greatly, shaking him slightly in an obvious warning to stay still.

"Luck is truly on our side tonight!" one of the other men said, pointing his stick at Harry. The tip of his stick was glowing with an ominous green color. Despite himself, Harry found himself freezing up reflexively as he saw it. That light… There was something… _familiar_ about it. Something…that reminded him of…screaming…Pain…Laughter…

The group started arguing among themselves, trying to decide what to do with their little captive. In doing so, they failed to notice something important. That energy was starting to awaken again. Provoked by the pain, fueled by their cruel treatment, and now triggered by the remnants of a terrible memory, the energy finally found an 'anchor' within the boy. It responded to his fear and pain and primal survival instinct, filling him with an incredible power. Before he even knew what he was doing, Harry let out a loud shriek of…everything he was feeling. Grass, gravel, leaves and foliage began floating into the air, dancing to an unnatural maelstrom that was circling Harry.

The group of tormentors around him had only a moment to realize what was happening and react to it before he suddenly expelled all of the power in one massive _push_ outwards. Everything, even the man holding onto him, was sent tumbling five meters away from him, having been unable to raise adequate shields around themselves. For just a moment, Harry crouched on the ground in the epicenter of it all before he collapsed limply back to the ground again, dead to the world as magical exhaustion and his own bodily exhaustion knocked him unconscious.

The group of drunk dark wizards recovered and recoiled quickly from where they'd landed.

"No wonder the brat killed the dark lord!" Hector said, pushing himself awkwardly back to his feet. "He may be a brat but he's a monster _already_!"

"Let's just _kill him_ and get it over with!" Lexis shrieked, fear of the brat's power driving her somewhat crazy.

"No!" Garrett barked. "Do you guys realize the potential of what we have here?!"

"I know that Dumbledore and his precious Order will on crawling all over this place within two minutes!" Lexis stated, still somewhat shrieking. "And the Ministry won't be far behind either! With that magical output, they probably felt it as far away as Rome!"

"Quite exaggerating, Lexis," Garrett growled, glaring at the hysterical witch as he knelt down and roughly grabbed the boy up again. "But I agree, let's get out of here. Now!"

"W'ere sch'uld we go?" Dereth asked, still somewhat out of it because of his inebriated mind. The hard knock to the head he took from the powerful outburst a few moments ago didn't help matters for him much.

"Somewhere no one would even think to look for him or us," Garrett said, grinning savagely. "The Forbidden Forest!"

"What?!" Hector barked, gawking at his companion. "Are you crazy?!"

"No, think about it!" Garrett countered easily. "It's the last place Dumbledore would even think to look! We'd be hiding his precious Boy-Who-Lived _right under his obnoxious nose_! It's _brilliant_!"

Not smart or sober enough to formulate an adequate counter, all of his companions nodded and teleported away.

Not even thirty seconds later, the first of the Ministry personnel would arrive to try and get a handle on the unusual magical activity that had been recorded in the area. But despite the ample amount of evidence available, the wizard would not realize just what he had been too slow in responding to and arriving to prevent from happening until it was far, far too late. He would be promptly fired from his job and blacklisted by the rest of the wizarding society for the next decade or so when the secret of the disaster was brought to light with the usual grandiose embellishment from the Daily Prophet two days later.

* * *

 **Somewhere in the Forbidden Forest**

"Wake up!" an angry unfamiliar voice as a boot kicked him in the stomach. Harry snapped awake quickly, crying out in pain, cradling up in a fetal position. If he'd had the body water to spare, tears would've fallen from his eyes immediately.

"Welcome back to the world, brat!" the kicker said, sneering conceited down at him. Harry vaguely recognized him as the one who'd been holding him by his hair.

Looking around wildly, Harry saw that they and the other three people from earlier were in some kind of dark, eerie forest. He couldn't see the sky through the rotten canopy. He couldn't even tell what time of day or night it was, it was so dark and foreboding. He himself was lying on the ground with his back pressed up against a large rocky cliff that jutted out of the ground as though it'd been thrust upwards quite violently recently. Around him, the rotting black and dead trees were everywhere, the stink of moldy and rotting foliage and death hung thick in the air around them.

Instantly, his fear spiked substantially as his gaze shot back to the group of mean people who'd kidnapped him. And he knew he was kidnapped because he most certainly did _not_ want people like _this_ come and pick him up!

"Wh-Where are we?" he uttered fearfully, his eyes shooting instantly to the lady in fear that she'd make him feel pain again for speaking. But when she made no move, besides glaring at him hatefully, he hesitantly asked, "Who-Who are y-you people? Wh-Wh-What's going on?! I'm scared!"

One of the men scoffed derisively, instantly silencing Harry. " _This_ is the fabled and almighty Boy-Who-Lived?! What a _disgrace!_ How could our Lord have fallen to a _whelp_ like this?!"

"Shut up, Hector," the first man said, glaring at the man. "He's still just a brat. He probably doesn't know anything _about_ anything."

"Puh," the third man, by far the largest of the lot, spat to the side. "H'w c'uld 'e not 'now? Dum'dore prob'ly hazz 'im 'ivin' in schum p'lace!"

Before Harry could speak up to ask or argue, the lady snapped out, "Forget all that! WHAT ARE WE GOING TO **_DO_** WITH HIM?! This is _your_ plan, Garrett! What's the plan?!"

"Yes, please fill us in, _oh Wise One_ ," Hector demanded, now glaring at Garrett.

"It's really quite simple," Garrett said, a grin that Harry really didn't like crossing his face. "We send Dumbledore a little 'message'. We'll bargain the boy back for a nice reward of, oh say...500 thousand Galleons, _for each of us_ , in exchange for getting his precious golden boy back alive!"

"OOoohhhh! Now _that's_ a plan!" Hector cooed, grinning greedily at all that gold he was now eagerly looking forward to.

"Yezzz," the big man slurred, also grinning.

"Okay, that's a good idea," the lady conceded, now much more calmly, though she still glared icily at Harry. "But how are we going to tell Dumbledore about this and get away _with our lives?_ "

"First," Garrett stated as he reached into a pocket on his dress. "We have to send a message to get his attention. How about one of the boy's fingers?"

As he spoke, he withdrew a large, gilded jewel-encrusted dagger and turned to gesture towards Harry. Harry immediately shrunk away from the man as best he could, which wasn't much considering he was pressed firmly against a large rocky cliff. The group of adults started laughing uproariously at both the man's suggestion and Harry's reaction.

"No! No! _No!_ " Harry started yelling, his voice raising in his growing fear. " _Leave me alone, you big_ _ **bullies**_ _!_ "

If anything, his shout just caused them to start laughing even louder. Harry started trying to scoot away, pressing his back against the rocky surface behind as hard as he could in a desperate effort to meld into and through it to escape. In response, the man with the dagger stepped forward, bringing the deadly weapon closer as he reached for the nearest of Harry's arms. Just as the man grabbed his wrist, that energy from earlier came back. This time, somewhat more familiar with the 'feel' of it, Harry threw up his hands in a desperate gesture as he 'shoved' out at the man.

The man literally had no idea what hit him. One second, he was bringing his dagger closer to sever the boy's thumb. The next second, the dagger was wrenched from his hand and he was thrown ten meters away by a powerful invisible force to his abdomen. He would've gone farther if those tree limbs hadn't been there to impale him on. Garrett just looked and blinked, staring down blankly at the three black things that were protruding from his back and through his chest, stomach, and shoulder. In a way, his drunkness actually helped him in this moment. It delayed the pain signals from his body from reaching his brain and being properly processed. But, when the pain did hit him and he let out a piercing howl. He wasn't the only to scream, though.

Harry stared at what he had done with wide-eyed shock. Then the panic hit him and he screamed out in fear. He didn't mean to do that! He just wanted the man to leave him alone and go away! He didn't want to hurt him, even if he was a big bully himself! He didn't mean to—He didn't want… ' _Aunt Petunia is right_ ,' a cold, amorphous voice whispered into his mind. ' _I am a…freak. I'm a…_ _ **monster**_ _… No, no, noo! NO!_ _ **NOOO!**_ '

With his and Garrett's screams, chaos broke loose. But not in the manner that anyone present would've expected.

The lady started shrieking as she rushed for Garrett. The big man and Hector both turned towards the still-cowering Harry, their wandtips glowing an ominous green color in preparation. But before they could unless their Killing Curses upon the ignorant boy, a new voice made itself known. It started with a clicking roar that echoed out of the trees surrounding them. But it was close, easily being overheard the screams of the humans. Then it was answered by similar clicking roars and a strange scuttling sound.

"Acromantula!" Hector yelled, easily recognizing the noise as he and the big man turned from Harry and pointed their wands out into the forest. Despite his mental anguish, Harry still had enough presence of mind to shut his mouth and stop screaming to watch and try to find a way to escape now that the men were distracted.

Then he saw something drop out of the tree above the impaled and quickly fading Garrett and the lady. It was a _spider_ the size of a _horse_! The spider-thing landed heavily upon the lady's shoulders, instantly sinking its fangs into her back as it bore her to the ground. Harry just barely managed to bite his reflexive shriek of terror at seeing such a monster. The two men standing between him and the monster immediately launched their curses at the monster, but it reacted faster than Harry thought it could and dodged to the side. The two green bolts of energy struck the already limp Garrett, pushing him even further upon the branches that killed him. The spider turned to face its attackers and let out a clicking roar at them, throwing out its front limbs in a threatening manner. But neither man seemed interested in playing its game, launching yet more green light at it. This time, they struck the spider dead-on and it collapsed to the ground, completely dead.

Yet, despite that victory, more clicking roars filled the air as the treetops rapidly began shaking with increasing numbers of spiders approaching. Hector ignored that though, rushing to the lady and waving his stick over her wounded and agonizing body. The big man waved his stick through the air as strange energies began emitting from it, creating a translucent blue dome that circled around them for about ten meters. Outside the dome, spiders suddenly appeared in the treetops. Some of the smaller ones leapt from the trees for the dome, but were blasted away from it as soon as they touched it by what looked like jolts of electrical energy. The big man let out a challenging bellow towards the spiders with each bolt of power that was emitted, causing him to flinch and twitch as his already-tenuous control of his magic weakened further.

As all this was happening, Harry curled himself up into a ball. He was well beyond scared. He was terrified for his life, begging someone, something, anything to come and save him from this nightmare that had taken control of him. With each roar of the spiders, he flinched. With each weakening shout of challenge, he shivered. With each dying moan, he wept. ' _I caused all this…I'm a monster…_ '

Then, following an especially bright flash of energy, a flicker of light caught his attention from the corner of his eye. Mustering a strength he didn't know he had, he lifted his gaze up and looked to the side. Not even two meters away from him, right by the edge of the dome that was near the cliff wall, he saw the dagger that Garrett had been going to use on him just lying there, sticking out of the dirt, beckoning him to grab it and take it. Looking over at the others and seeing them very well distracted, he crept slowly, fearfully over to the dagger and grabbed it. Once he did, he was suddenly feeling _much_ better now that he had something to defend himself with, even if he didn't know how to use it for such.

That was when, with one last cry of exhaustion, the big man fell to his knees as his arms fell limply to his sides. The constant battering of the spiders had finally exhausted him to the point of collapse. As he fell to the ground, the dome disintegrated around them and the spiders let out triumphant roars as they launched themselves towards the four large morsels of meat that had so willingly wandered into their forest. Hector tried to fight them off but was quickly overwhelmed, being bitten in six different places but still thrashing. The lady and Garrett were snatched up by the larger and stronger spiders and carried off, vanishing into the woodland. The big guy just closed his eyes and accepted his fate as a literal tsunami of spiders rushed towards him.

While the spiders were distracted, Harry cowered against the rocky cliff. He didn't want to die, not like this! He may have caused this. He may have been a monster and a freak. But he wanted to live! Once again, that energy that had been reacting to and empowering him rose to the surface. With all of his concentration channeled into his desire to escape into the cliff behind him so the spiders couldn't follow him, it would've come as no surprise to anyone when the wall of solid rock behind him suddenly cracked, cratered, and then simply shattered. What was revealed behind him was a black void, a cave through which he slipped and fell into, rolling painfully along with the gravel debris he'd created.

Before he could reorient himself, Harry found himself slipping off the edge of another cliff and fell down into an underground stream. Sputtering, he pushed himself back to his feet as best he could. However, the knee-deep cold water rushing around his legs quickly turned his feet numb as he tried to reach for the cliff and pull himself back up. As he grabbed the ledge above him, his hand brushed against something. Tentatively sliding his hand upon it, he found it to be the hilt of the dagger that he'd accidentally dropped during his tumble. He quickly snatched it up and stuffed it into his pants waistband. Reaching again, he felt something else. It was warm, somewhat hairy, and…moving? Looking upwards, he could see _just enough_ in the darkness of the cave to realize it was a spider!

"AAAHHHH!" His reflexive scream became a piercing echo that reverberated around the cavern tunnel, becoming increasingly louder and painful the longer Harry screamed. Suffice to say, the spider beat a hasty exit. Harry didn't stick around to see if it'd return either, he turned and ran downstream as fast as his numb legs could carry him, not caring if he'd get lost or not. He just wanted to get away! Away from the spiders! Away from the dark forest! Away from the mean adults who had kidnapped and wanted to hurt him! Away from his relatives! Away from the misery that was his life! He just wanted to _get away!_

In the total darkness of the tunnel, Harry never saw the sudden edge of the small waterfall he was running towards. But once his foot left that ledge, he was sent on a one-way trip to a place no man had ever seen before. And his destiny would be forever changed as a result, for better or worse.

* * *

( **Author's Note** ) In case it's not abundantly obvious, this is a rewrite of an old story of mine. And while I can't make any promises to the future of this story, I hope that with the slightly new direction (and new origins) I've put in that it'll catch you guys by slight surprise and keep myself interested enough to continue writing it. Here's to hoping!

So, all of you veteran readers of mine, please tell me. Do you prefer this change of origin that I put in? Or did you like the simplicity of the original version? Also, if I made 4-year-old Harry seem a bit too smart, coordinated, powerful, whatever, I apologize. I am not exactly familiar with children of this age and don't know what to expect of them.

PLEASE REVIEW!


	2. The Outlander

**.**

 **Harry Potter and the World of Dinosaurs  
** By: Tellemicus Sundance  
 _Chapter 2—The Outlander_

 **August 14, 1984  
Forbidden Forest**

Hagrid was having a bit of a busy time recently. This was a busy time for him and Professor Silvanus Kettleburn since it was the latter half of summer and they were once again preparing the school grounds and creatures for the return of the students. As was becoming ever more common in recent years, Kettleburn had called in Hagrid's help to handle the various creatures. While it was partially because of his size, strength, and naturally good instinct towards all creatures he came across, it was mainly because Kettleburn had once again gotten injured (this time losing three fingers of his left hand) and needed the help.

It was somewhere around midmorning and Hagrid had just finished feeding the thestrals. The massive half-giant was taking a small break of his own, seated just outside his hut while drinking a mug of tea as he munched on some of his homemade desserts. They were starting to get a little stale, so he decided to eat them now instead of just letting them go to waste. It was a bright and sunny day so far, warm and just perfect weather.

' _It's a shame more days aren't like this one_ ,' he thought morosely.

A familiar scuttling sound creeping out of the woodlands behind him quickly attracted his attention. Turning on his spot, Hagrid's face split into a wide enough smile that it was easily visible even through his massive black beard and mustache. He knew what that was and there was only one creature that would made that sound and would willingly approach him. Hagrid treasured those times when his old friend visited because they were becoming increasingly rare as he aged.

"Aragog!" Hagrid greeted, setting his food and drink aside as he climbed to his feet. Sweeping his arms outwards as though he wanted to gather up his many-legged friend and give him a bone-crushing hug, he moved forward slightly as the ancient giant spider slowly approached the edge of the forest. "It's been too long, my old friend! How's the wife and kids treating you?"

"Heheheh, you never change, old friend," the Acromantula laughed faintly, stopping just shy of leaving the forest and the canopy's shadowy protect of the blinding sunlight. "And my family is much the same as they have always been, whining and complaining about how little food there is and the Centaurs who regularly attack them for leaving our territory."

"Ah, I'm so sorry about that," Hagrid said sincerely, bowing his head in acknowledgement. Indeed, while the Forbidden Forest was quite large, it wasn't nearly large enough to adequately feed the incredibly large colony of Acromantula that had grown up in it these past few decades. Sadly, there was nothing anyone could do about this problem, aside from…removing a few hundred of the spiders from the forest entirely. And Hagrid would never willingly participate in or condone such an act if he could. "I wish there was something I could do about that."

"I know, old friend," Aragog said quietly. "However, I did not come here today to merely complain about my problems. Something happened last night in the forest. There were dark wizards in our territory last night, Hagrid."

"Dark wizards?!" Hagrid gasped, recoiling in surprise. But then his eyes narrowed as they hardened dangerously. When he spoke, gone was the jovial giant who many knew and loved, replaced by a being who was ready and willing to fight to the death if need be. "What happened? What were they doing there? Do you know who they were?"

"Sadly, I know very little of any of those answers," Aragog stated calmly. "All I know is that some of my children had stumbled upon them while searching for food, and you know how they get when they find such…easy meals."

"…Yes," Hagrid admitted, his face falling somewhat. Acromantula, especially the younger ones, tended to think with their stomachs first and their brains…fourth, if that. If they came across humans in their territory, they would never hesitate to ambush them for the easy meat they could get.

"However," Aragog continued. "There is one piece of information that they told me that was most curious indeed. Apparently these wizards had with them a young child, quite likely kidnapped given the apparent state the boy was in."

"Kidnapped?!" Hagrid repeated, disbelief and alarm in his voice. "What happened? How could they tell? What happened to this 'boy'? _They didn't eat him, did they?!_ "

"Thankfully, they did not," Aragog quickly answered. ' _Not for lack of_ _ **trying**_ _though_.' "They were more focused on the adults, who were also quite drunk. We could taste a high concentration of your beloved alcohol within their blood...afterwards. But as for the boy, he somehow fell into an underground river and was swept downstream."

Hagrid's mind was whirling from all this information. The idea of drunk dark wizards kidnapping a child, likely for a hefty ransom, was far from surprising. Indeed, that was one of several tactics that Death Eaters loved to use and abuse when they were still in power, as a means of coercion or terror-inducing or both. So, Hagrid didn't spend much time trying to analyze that situation at all. Instead, he focused his attention on the boy' fate. But there was one glaring detail in it that caught him by surprise.

"But there are no 'underground rivers' in the Forbidden Forest," Hagrid couldn't help pointing out. "We would've surely found such a thing years ago while we were exploring for where you could nest, Aragog."

"Yes, that caught me by surprise too," the Acromantula stated. "So much so, that I decided to personally go and visit the site for myself. Based on my own observations, I would guess that the child had apparently used a burst of…accidental magic to create a small cave to hide in from my children. Instead, he accidentally revealed an undiscovered river system. I do not know what happened to the child either. None of my children have ventured down the hole and it's too small for me to investigate myself. But even if I could, I wouldn't enter that cave or river."

"Why not?" Hagrid asked, cocking his head slightly in confusion. "Spiders love dark places, don't they? I'd have thought your children would've loved the chance to explore and see where it goes."

"That is normally true," Aragog said. "But this time is different. We can… _feel_ it drifting upwards from…below. There is an _ancient_ and _extremely_ powerful magic that is…somewhere down there. And we dare not provoke its wrath by invading its domain."

"But what of the child?" Hagrid asked, staring in somewhat disgruntled disbelief.

"Chances are high that he's already _dead_ , my old friend," Aragog said grimly. Then, backing up slightly, he said, "That is all I had to say. It was good to see and speak with you again, Hagrid. But now I must return. Farewell."

"Very well," Hagrid said, bowing his head in farewell. "I hope to see you again soon, old friend." By the time he'd raised his head, Aragog was gone. Turning, he quickly finished off his snack and tea before hurrying to the castle. ' _Professor Dumbledore will likely want to hear about this_.'

* * *

 **Somewhere far below…**

Grunting as he pushed himself upright, he rubbed the sleep sand from his eyes with his free hand while yawning. After a moment of this, he stretched out and let a sigh of relief at feeling his joints pop and loosen up. Rolling onto his feet from the leaf and vine hammock he'd made, he headed over to where a poorly-woven burlap bag was hanging from a broken tree branch and dug out a banana. Eyeing the prominent yellow and black spots it had, he decided it was still ripe enough to be edible and quickly dug into it.

Moving about his little treehouse campsite, the old man collected a few odds and ends as he tidied up the place. ' _Damn little chirpers, always rummaging through my things when I'm gone_.' Sadly, he couldn't do anything about it. He hunted them down and killed them whenever he could, but the damn things bred and spread like weeds when he did. He'd learned long ago that if he killed too many, there'd be a population explosion of them. If he just let them be, they'd quickly exhaust their favorite food supply and many would be forced to leave for greener fields, though several always stayed behind to harass him. He knew and understood this, but it always _so annoying_ to wake up in the morning to find his home a mess because one or two of the damn chirpers would climb up the tree and break-in while he was gone for the day.

Once done, he returned back to his hammock and grabbed at the thick leathers that had been lying discarded on the floor and started pulling them on. Dark leather pants and an overcoat with bits of wood woven into certain areas like his back, sides, chest, and limbs for added protection. Decorating the leather were bits of long woven hair that had beads, teeth, dried flowers and leaves that were stitched into it. Next he pulled on a thick belt that had three pouches and two daggers hanging from it, a large satchel that hung from his shoulder down to his waist, and an even larger backpack that was filled with arrows, a few rocks, and quite a few sticks that would become arrows soon. Finishing up his look, he pulled a large hood from his overcoat up to cover his long black hair that was slowly turning to white these past few years.

Dressed for the day, he headed out of his little tree hut, balancing upon the narrow limb with practiced ease. Crouching low upon the limb, he scanned the surrounded jungle with careful, trained eyes, searching for lurking predators. His little hut was nestled in the upper reaches of a tree that was almost as tall as ten-story building, thus it afforded him an excellent view of the jungle around him. And while most predators were late-risers, preferring to wait until the sun at least partway above the horizon, not all of them were.

Seeing the area clear and safe for the moment, he leapt out into open air, reaching for one of the large vines that was hanging from a nearby tree. Snagging one, he pulled himself up into a slight swing and landed on a new tree limb. Thus, slowly, he made his way down a well-worn trail that he'd used for many years. It was a long trail, almost three kilometers in length, and far from being a straight line. It circled around a large, rocky pit that was infested with monstrous alligators, skirted along the edge of the pack hunters' territory, and passed by a small collection of fruit trees (which he'd always stop to grab an orange or two) before making a beeline straight for the river.

Reaching the cliff that ran down to the river, he stopped in the last tree overlooking the cliff and grabbed the bucket tied to a vine that he'd left there. Once again surveying the land below and finding it clear, he dropped quietly down to the ground and headed over to the cliff. Carefully, he swung himself over the cliff and dropped himself the six-meter distance to the protruding ledge below. Steadying himself, he turned and threw the bucket off over the ledge towards the river below, maintaining his grip on the vine. He watched with an idle smile as the bucket made a small splash before sinking slightly under the water as it started to drift downriver with the current. Pulling back, he started drawing the now-full bucket of water out of the river with slow but steady movements for minimum spillage.

As he was doing this, something caught his eye. A strange speck of color that was horribly out of place and that he _knew_ hadn't been there yesterday down almost directly below him. Frowning deeply as he stopped pulling his bucket up, he lowered himself down into a crouch to try and better examine what he was seeing. ' _What is that?_ ' he wondered. ' _It looks like…a…child… A boy?_ '

Gazing even closer now that he'd sharpened his focus, he realized that he was correct. It was _indeed_ a child, and _not_ a child of the tribe! The strange clothes the child worn were nothing like what the tribe would wear. Even from this distance of fifteen meters, he could easily see that those clothes offered next to no protection at all! And that wasn't even bringing up the gaudy, eye-catching colors! Blue pants and red-white checkered shirt?! He might as well be wearing walking around in neon-orange for all the camouflage those colors would give him.

Without needing to consider his next actions, he quickly finished pulling up his bucket of water, setting it aside before turning and jumping lightly upon the cliff. Digging his fingers and feet into the bare rock, he slid quietly down the slide of the cliff towards the child below. Landing heavily upon the wet sand the child had washed up on, he frowned in annoyance. He hated sand. It was always so hard to move around on, especially when he was in a hurry, because of it was always shifting. No traction. Practically a death sentence to anyone foolish enough to get caught in it!

Kneeling down, he rolled the child over onto its back, noting that his guess had been right. The child was a boy alright. The boy was also alive, breathing in the slow breaths of one currently unconscious or sleeping. Thanks to his short hair, the man could easily see the strangely shaped scar on his forehead as he quickly looked over him for any type of injuries. Aside from a few bruises that were probably caused by his chaotic ride down from the surface, the boy seemed in good health, just unconscious from exhaustion. As he was looking the child over, a glint of metal caught his eye in the waters nearby. Pulling the child fully but carefully out of the water, the old man set upright him against the cliff before turning and cautiously approaching the water. Thankfully, the object that he'd noticed was only an arm's reach away but he was still weary of reaching into the water itself. Alligators and other aquatic hunters were masters of concealment after all.

Taking a breath and a chance, he slowly eased his hand into the water and grasped the metal thing. Being careful to pull it his hand and the object out just as slowly so as to not disturb the water too many and attract undue attention, he smiled in relief as he realized that it was a dagger of some kind. ' _Well, at least you were lucky enough to not be banished without any type of protection_ ,' he thought, turning to frown at the child in contemplation. ' _But those above haven't banished anyone down here in_ _ **many**_ _generations. Why now? And why a_ _ **child**_ _?_ '

Shaking his head free of unnecessary thoughts and questions, he quickly stuck the lad's dagger into his belt next to his own. Turning, he quickly but gently picked the child up and laid him across his shoulder. Once the lad was secure, he began the slow climb back to the top of the cliff. As he climbed, he let out a sigh of resignation, ' _I guess I'll have to visit Modron's Hearth so the lad can get the help he needs to recover… Ugh, the High Matriarchs are_ _ **not**_ _going to be happy about this_.'

* * *

 **August 15, 1984**

Petunia Dursley was in a particularly odd place to be, emotionally. Her freaky, unnatural nephew had run away from home and had yet to return. She hadn't at first noticed when it happened, too upset with the lad for breaking the plate when she was trying to teach him to become responsible. Once that mess had been handled, she got distracted with her own normal routine of chores inside and out. Those had taken her much of the day to do and put her a relatively bad mood, weeding the garden that she hated having just to fit in with her neighbors was always so painful on her delicate knees and fingers. By the time she'd finished, she had to go and pick up her dear Dudley from preschool and get started on dinner for when Vernon came home.

It wasn't until she was serving dinner that she first noticed that Harry was missing, his plate and tiny serving of food remaining untouched throughout the meal. Or, at least, untouched until Dudley noticed the free food and grabbed the plate. After finishing up dinner and getting started on the dishes again, she'd called for Harry but again he didn't appear. By then, she'd started getting just a little bit worried, but more so annoyed that he'd dare throw such a temper tantrum as to refuse to show up when she called for him. Searching the house and backyard revealed that he was nowhere to found, he was not even hiding in the attic. It was only then that she realized what must've happened.

On the one hand, she was relieved. He and his freaky magic were finally out of the house and gone! Finally, she and her family might have a normal evening all to themselves without any type of freaky magical 'accident' to happen and force her to quickly cover it up from both him and the neighbors. A chance for her and Vernon to truly lower their guards and relax. But on the other hand, however much she was loathed to admit it, she was worried. Harry was still just a child, barely even four-years-old and completely ignorant to the world around him (admittedly through her and Vernon's doing, but that was beside the point). Who knew what type of trouble he was getting into? Who knew what was happening to him now? Had he been picked up by a random stranger and taken to an orphanage? Had he been found and adopted into a Wizarding family and free her from the burden of raising him?

In the end, she decided that it didn't matter. According to Professor Dumbledore's letter, magical enchantments around the house would ensure his and their protections against any evil wizard or magic that wished them harm. She didn't know where Harry was and wasn't going to waste time and energy searching for him anymore than she already had. If Dumbledore wanted the boy to remain in their household, let the old man deal with the boy. After all, he had _magic_. Finding one small boy should be a cinch for him!

But even with her mind made up, Petunia still felt a nagging feeling of…worry? No, she wasn't worried about the freak! But, nonetheless, she did quietly admit that there was a strong likelihood of Dumbledore or some other Wizard showing up in the near-future to ask about Harry's whereabouts. So, it was with a heavy heart of resignation that she'd started preparing herself for the inevitable to happen. Surprisingly to her, it had taken nearly two days before her unwanted but expected visitor finally appeared.

Moving to answer the door as she hurriedly wiped her hands clean of dirt, Petunia quickly peeked out of the eyehole. Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she saw the warped form of an old man wearing garish robes that sparkled and shifted in unnatural patterns. Biting back her initial reaction, she opened the door and irritably asked, "What do you want, Dumbledore?"

"Hello, Mrs. Dursley," the old man greeted, attempting to come off as calm, but also having a noticeable undertone of worry in his voice that even she could pick up on. "I apologize for—"

"I know why you're here!" Petunia snapped, eager to get the old man to leave. "I don't know where the boy is, why he left, or when he'll come back! You want him? Go find him yourself!" She promptly slammed the door shut on the wizard.

But rather than walk away, she waited and listened. After several moments of silence, the old man began mumbling gibberish that she couldn't hear or would've understood. Peeking through the eyehole again, she watched as he, with his back turned to the door, waved him little stick about as it emitted sparks and lights of various colors. Biting her cheek to keep herself from slamming the door open and start berating the man for practicing his unholy powers literally on her doorstep, Petunia watched as the lights and sparked began to coalesce around him, flashing a strong green color, whatever that might've meant. What it did mean clearly reassured the old man as he sagged in obvious relief when he saw that. After a few moments, he waved his wand in an idle gesture and the lights instantly vanished.

A following moment, with a soft _pop_ , he did too and Petunia let out a sigh of relief.

* * *

 **August 16, 1984**

He wasn't sure how long he'd slept, but he'd never felt so comfortable before in his life. The bed he lay in didn't feel like any bed he ever felt before. It was circular, dipping inwards like a bowl somewhat, padded by thick layers of heavy and smelly blankets. Cushions around him and the pillow under him were prickly and lumpy, smelling like grass and sweat. While far from being as dreamily soft and comforting as his cousin's bed, it was still a far cry better than the stiff and hard mat he used in the cupboard. He had never felt so well-rested in his life before.

The second thing he became aware of was the songbirds singing outside and the bustling clatter activity of people nearby. Wood smoke hung in the air like a fragrance. There were a series of clangs and bangs of metal striking metal in a rhythmic manner. Childish laughter and the grumbling of adults as they passed by. He could even hear, very faintly, the thwacking sound of wood striking wood. Far off in the distance, he could the calls, bellows, and cries of numerous animals he didn't recognize. For one eternal moment, he was content, the sounds lulling him into a sense of relaxation.

 _He was lost in a park. "Well, well, what have we got here?" "Silence, whelp! Crucio!"_ _ **Pain! Agony!**_ _"Luck is truly on our side tonight!" A dark, evil forest. "_ _OOoohhhh! Now_ _ **that's**_ _a plan!" "How about one of the boy's fingers?" Giant spiders attacking! Lights and magic everywhere!_ _ **Must escape!**_ _Falling into a cave. Falling into a river! Falling! FALLING!_

With a strangled gasping cry, Harry sat bolt upright, eyes wide and he looked everywhere in fright. What he saw wasn't what his panicked mind was expecting. There was no river. There was no cavern. There were no spiders or scary people or weird bolts of light.

Instead, he found himself looking around a brightly sunlit little room. But it was like no room he'd ever seen before. It looked like some kind of primitive hut with mud bricks, a thatched and timber roof, no furniture beyond the bed he was seated in, a pair of chairs by a roughhewn table, and a series of shelves that had a number of stuff he didn't know or recognize stacked on them. Quickly sweeping the room, he found that the door was shut and that he was alone. That revelation both scared and soothed him. Scared because he didn't know where he was. Soothed because it meant that he wasn't in any _immediate_ danger.

"What happened?" he asked quietly. "Where am I?" His questioned remained unanswered of course, but he felt better speaking them aloud.

Pushing his fear down, he swept the heavy leather bedcovers off him as he swung his feet down upon the compact dirt and stone floor. As he did so, he discovered that his clothes were gone and that he'd been sleeping in the nude. Flushing deeply in embarrassment, he reflexively brought the covers back over himself to hide his dignity as he swept the room again for his clothes. Sadly, it would seem that they were missing, earning a pouting frown on his face. But that soon changed when he noticed that one of the bundles upon a nearby shelf within arm's length that seemed to be a set of brown leather pants and a basic green tunic. He wasted no time and grabbing them and pulling them on. The pants he found were quite loose around his waist and somewhat too long for his short legs. Looking around again, he found some long leather straps nearby where the clothes had been. One strap became a belt that he tied on rather tightly, while the other two were tied around his shins to keep the leggings from falling down around his ankles and feet. Looking around, he tried to find some socks, shoes, or even sandals to pull onto his feet but there didn't seem to be any.

"Aunt Petunia would be very upset," Harry muttered, feeling a little exposed as he became all too aware of just how…dirty and dusty the floor was. After a moment though, he was able to push it out of his mind a little bit. He was accustomed to going without some basic necessities and personal comfort from time to time, so going barefoot didn't trouble as much as it probably should've.

That done, he finally climbed to his feet and started looking around the hut, poking at some of the stuff on the other shelves. There seemed to be small, tied bundles of various plants and flowers, the use of which he didn't know. There were clay pots filled with grain, seeds, and nuts of various kinds. There were even some vegetables and fruits in good condition that were hanging in weird nets from hooks on the walls. Seeing a large red apple, he remembered that he handled eaten anything since breakfast…however long ago it'd been. Thus, his hunger getting the better of his manners and caution, Harry immediately grabbed and bit into it with voracious glee. He finished the apple in record time, setting the core down nearby and grabbing another that he quickly started eating.

Halfway through this apple, his hunger abated and he started chewing more thoughtfully. Turning his attention to the large window that was nestled on the opposite side of the hut as the door, he looked out and gasped, the apple falling from his nerveless hands. Rushing to the window, he stared out the perhaps the most beautiful and lush jungle he'd ever seen before. Trees as tall as buildings, massive stone formations and sheer rocky cliffs, patches of vibrant green ferns, dangling vines as thick as ropes, the sun shining blindingly bright since it was still so low to the horizon. It was an incredible image that no artist or camera could possibly capture in its entirety.

But what truly caught his attention were the distinctive line of animals that were slowly but steadily treading along through a small break in the canopy. Animals that had long and very tall neck with stubby little heads atop, making loud but low bellows not unlike what a whale would sound like.

"Dino…saurs…?" he couldn't help uttering in absolute awe as he continued staring at the picturesque image of the passing herd of Apatosaurs as a couple of winged pterosaurs flew by overhead.

Snapping out of his slight daze, Harry immediately spun around and hurried to the door, lifting the basic latch and rushing outside. What he found outside looked like what would imagine a Dark Ages village might've looked like. The buildings were all a mixture of mudbrick, stone, and poorly carved wooden planks with stone chimneys that were softly releasing little smoke trails. Most of the buildings were simple one-room huts. Though as he turned and started hurrying through the village, ignoring the curious stares of the villagers, he did see a couple of larger buildings that were two or three stories in height and had much better construction than the huts. The village itself seemed to be set into a high crevasse between two cliffs that were overlooking the jungle below. Upon the tops of those cliffs on either side, which from his point-of-view seemed little more than steep and rocky hills, he could see a series of buildings and huts as well.

Seeing a large platform ahead of him, Harry rushed to it, skidding to a halt and leaning heavily upon its railing as he gazed out over the jungle in awe. If he thought the view from his hut was beautiful, it had absolutely nothing on what he was seeing now!

But for as enraptured as he was in the sights, he still was able to notice the low murmur of hushed conversations and whispers behind and around him. Turning his attention from the view, he looked around and saw that everyone within eyesight was staring at him, some more discreetly than others.

"Uh…hi?" he called out, hesitantly.

For some reason, when he said that, many of the people threw vicious glares at him, as though he'd just insulted them on a deeply personal level. Naturally, this just confused and hurt Harry. Though, he was more confused than hurt, being used to such treatment from the Dursleys and their neighbors. Regardless, after a moment of glaring, most of the people turned back to what they were doing earlier.

Now that he was looking, Harry studied the village people with avid interest. Each of them, even the children and teenagers, were all suntanned to varying amounts, some more deeply than others. All of them wore leather pants and tunics similar to what Harry now wore. However, each person had gone about decorating their clothing and themselves in different and interesting ways. Most of the men and quite a few women wore necklaces, wreathes, bracelets, tiaras, and/or headdresses with numerous colored beads and animal teeth tied or woven in. All of the women had long hairs, sometimes braided in simple or intricate ways. By contrast, most of the men had short hair or had shaved their heads, usually as a mohawk. On their faces were unique designs of colored face paint, mostly either greens, browns, black, or yellows. Though, Harry could see a few splashes of blue and red elsewhere, though they were few. And all of them walked around completely barefoot.

Curious, Harry started making his way back into and through the village, stopping to stare or even cautiously approach to watch certain people go about their business with innocent interest. At least, that was his intention.

Approaching one young man who was busy weaving long strips of leather together into something that Harry thought might become a net of some kind, the young boy stared with wide-eyed interest. He had never seen anyone sew before like this before. Aunt Petunia had a sewing machine, but it was loud and very fast. What the man was doing was slow but far more intricately done.

"Wow, that's amazing," he said softly as he drew ever nearer.

As he approached, opening his mouth to ask a question, the man suddenly stopped his stitching and threw a fierce warning glare at Harry.

"Wh-What?" he asked, flinching away from the vehemence of the glare. "I-Is something wrong?"

The man's glare only deepened. Shutting his mouth, Harry froze for a moment before he started cautiously backing away. Once he was six paces away, the man returned to his work, but continued throwing glares at Harry in a continued warning.

Confused and somewhat hurt, Harry turned away, quickly seeing something else that caught his attention further down the main street of the village. It was what looked a carpenter, carving up a piece of wood into something. As Harry moved forward, he watched bemused as the man ground a piece of rough sandstone against the wood, pausing every few strokes to blow the wood dust and chip off. This man spotted Harry even quicker than the weaver had, letting out a threatening bellow as he waved his hand at Harry. As he did so, an invisible force slammed into the boy's abdomen, knocking him both breathless and off his feet. Wheezing, Harry quickly scrambled to his feet and fled off between two nearby buildings.

' _What was_ _ **that**_ _?!_ ' he asked himself, dumbfounded and scared.

Emerging on the other side, he found himself by a good-sized field. Still fighting to get his breath back, Harry moved forward and leaned heavily against a fence post, looking out at the field where two women and a group of twelve children about his age were busy picking at some of the plants.

Despite all of the glares and hostility directed towards him, Harry felt a spark of hope ignite in him as he spotted the children. Surely, they wouldn't hate him yet! Not like the men seemed to, at least. Why was everyone being so mean to him? Why didn't anyone answer any of his questions? Still, if the men wouldn't, maybe the women or kids would?

Feeling better now that he got his breath back, Harry knelt through the fence and entered the field. Carefully weaving his way through the rows of plants, Harry paused as he watched the children and women continue their picking. They were picking tomatoes, he realized. Looking down near him, he smiled slightly as he found several large red tomatoes hanging from the plants around him. Kneeling down himself, he carefully picked at several of them, breaking the green, prickly stalks from them. Gathering up a good armful of them, he carefully moved forward towards the woman with the basket.

"Thank you, Havel," the woman was saying to young redhaired girl with three stripes of green on her forehead, smiling graciously as she took the girl's three tomatoes. The redhead smiled happily before turning and hurrying off to pick more. Next up was a blonde boy with one whole side of his face painted red, he gave the woman a bored pout as he dropped three of his own tomatoes into the basket. Despite the boy's bad attitude, the woman still smiled, "Thank you, Niko."

Sensing the approach another child behind her, the woman turned to face Harry, and her smile promptly died on her face. Ignoring this, Harry held out his armful of tomatoes towards her with a small, yearning smile, knowing better now than to try and speak to an adult. Rather than take the tomatoes, the woman turned and called out, "Alright, that's enough now, children. We'll come back for the rest later." Harry's hopes were immediately crushed.

The call caught everyone's attentions. And while the other woman at first seemed confused, that quickly changed to an angry glare when she caught sight of Harry. Together, the woman quickly herded the children out of the field while maintaining their glares upon Harry.

"Nugmet, who's that?" one of the children asked as they all moved.

" _Ignore him_ , Dava," Nugmet hissed softly, but Harry still heard it. "He's an _Outlander!_ Outlanders are _not_ to be trusted!"

Upon hearing that, Harry's eyes started watering as he limply dropped his gathered tomatoes to the group. Turning away so that the retreating group couldn't see his tears, Harry dropped down to his knees and started crying. Why was it that no matter where he meant, no one seemed to like him?! Did he do something bad or wrong to deserve this kind of treatment? Did his parents do something and now he was being punished for their sins? Why? Why? WHY?!

He remained there, crying softly on his knees in the middle of the abandoned field, for the better part of ten minutes. Crying until he had no more tears to cry, although the hurt still remained.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity to him, he heard the soft steps of someone approaching him. Glancing behind him, Harry spotted an old woman, hair white and face lined with deep wrinkles, approaching him slowly with deliberation. Despite the soft look on her face, Harry's eyes immediately flew to the gaudy-looking talisman-bearing walking stick she carried, something that would clearly hurt very much if she decided to use it on him. Quickly climbing to his feet, he backed away a few quick steps in fear.

"Now, now, none of that," the old woman said calmly, her voice surprisingly soothing. "Despite the others in the tribe, I'm not here to hurt you, young one."

"Wh-Wh-Who are you?" Harry asked softly, cautiously. "Wh-Where am I? What's going on here?"

A small but resigned smile crossed her face bitterly as Harry asked his questions fearfully. "All good questions, young one. And you shall have your answers, of that I can promise. However, I and my fellow High Matriarch sisters all have questions of our own for you. So, would you be so kind as to follow me?" She turned slightly, beckoning him to move up to and walk alongside her. "As for who I am, my name is High Matriarch Nadara."

"Matrice-arch?" Harry asked out, confused at the strange word. "What's that?"

"Matriarch," Nadara corrected gently, smiling down at the lad as he started slowly approaching her. "It means that I'm one of the old wise women who lead the tribe." Once he finally drew up alongside her, she gently placed her hand upon his shoulder and started guiding him back towards and through the village.

As they walked through the village, heading up towards one of the large buildings atop the cliff overlooking the village, Harry observed the people again. Though they were still shooting him glares and angry mutters between each other, they were noticeably more subdued than earlier. One look at the angry frown on Nadara's wrinkled face was enough to tell Harry that it was she was keeping them from being more forceful.

"Why do they hate me, Mrs. Nadara?" Harry asked softly, looking up at her pleadingly.

Glancing down at Harry's pleading green eyes, Nadara let out a low sigh. "It's because you're an outlander. You are not of the tribe, not one of us. You are something new, something different. And people hate and fear what they don't understand."

"But…why?" Harry asked, not understanding at all. "I haven't done anything to anyone!"

"Don't worry, young one," Nadara reassured him. "You will understand, one day."

The two continued their trip through the village and up a series of steep stairs in silence. As they reached the largest building, nearly the size and shape of a small church, Harry felt his unease rise substantially at the sight of the large, heavy wooden doors that seemed to loom above him threateningly. Despite his rising fear, Nadara continued to gently prod him forward, easing the large doors open with surprising ease for someone who seemed so old and frail.

Taking a deep breath to clamp his fear down, Harry stepped forward over the threshold and into the Matriarch Hall.

* * *

( **Author's Note** ) Okay, I'll admit it. I've recently started playing the game ' **Horizon: Zero Dawn** ' and have been _thoroughly_ enamored by it. That being the case, it shouldn't come as a surprise that I'm going to include a few elements of that game that I liked into this story.

For those of you old reviewers, you can now clearly see some of the more prominent changes that I've put in. Yes, I do intend to cover at least a little bit of Harry's time learning how to survive in the wilds, so don't worry about that.

For anyone curious, the magic that Dumbledore was performing at the Dursley's was just him checking on the status of the blood wards, which were still quite strong at that time, hence his relief since he thought that meant that Harry wasn't in any true danger just yet.


	3. Tales of the Ancients

**.**

 **Harry Potter and the Land of Dinosaurs  
** By: Tellemicus Sundance  
 _Chapter 3—Tales of the Ancients_

 **August 16, 1984  
Matriarch Hall, Morgan's Hearth, Modron Tribe**

"Come, come, child," Nadara said gently as she ushered Harry into the building.

The inside of the building was just like that of the church that the Dursleys used to take him to last year. The wood walls were covered with light-colored panels to better reflect light, narrow but high windows that had shutters tied open around them. The ceiling arced high overhead, easily three-stories tall and was covered with elaborate carvings of dinosaurs, people, and other creatures that Harry didn't have time to examine. The hall itself was wide and mostly open and empty. Inlaid into the floor of the hall in the exact center of the entire building was a large and glowing pool of liquid that Harry didn't recognize. It was constantly shifting, wavering, and changing, but Harry could vaguely make out shapes of people and creatures reflected within for the split second he took to glance at it.

Looking around the rest of the hall with wide and rather fearful eyes, he spotted the Matriarchs. They were seated at long tables that were set along the sides and far end of the hall upon a series of raised dais that had upwards of thirty women. All of them were old, wrinkly, and with greying or white hair. And seated in an obvious place of high honor in the center of the farthest table was a trio of throne-like chairs, one of which was presently empty.

"Stand here, little one," Nadara said, tapping her staff on a spot on the ground in front of Harry as they drew up close to the shimmering pool.

The spot she'd tapped was of a highly-detailed carving of some sort that Harry didn't recognize at all. It was one of several identical carvings. Each of them was overflowing with circular areas and jagged lines that almost seemed to spell out words of some sort, interconnected to one another through a series of lines. As Nadara walked forward to take her spot in the vacant throne, Harry hesitantly stepped into the circle that was indicated. The moment he did, the shimmering pool suddenly lit up in a bright blue glow, causing him to flinch away as he threw his hands up protectively in front of his eyes. After a moment and nothing bad happened, he cautiously lowered his hands to squint into the bright light, watching as the liquid started rising and flowing into the carved lines. With childish wide-eyed wonder, he watched as the liquid continued flowing through the lines that circled around him.

"Awesome…" he uttered out breathlessly in awe.

"You have never seen such a thing before?" Nadara asked from where she was now seated, her gaze still soft despite the questioning frown on her face.

"N-No, madam," Harry said, quickly regaining his awareness of where he was. "What is it? What's it supposed to do? Why—?"

"SILENCE!" the old women seated next to Nadara shrieked, glaring furiously at Harry through the heavy beaded braids and gaudy headdress she wore. Harry instantly wilted under the glare and the harshness of her voice. "You will _speak_ _ **only**_ when _spoken to_ , _Darkling!_ " Mutters of agreement murmured through the old women along the edges of the hall showed their support of this proclamation.

"Hedith! That's enough!" Nadara snapped, turning a fierce glare upon the woman. "Use your eyes! He is but a _child!_ Certainly, no threat to any of us!"

Snarling dismissively, Hedith glared back at Nadara but made no further comment. Seeing that Hedith was backing off, for now, Nadara turned her attention back to the boy before them. "I apologize for that, young one. Would you be willing to tell us your name?"

"…Harry," he said timidly, glancing around himself before cautiously looking up and keeping his gaze on the three old women before him. "Harry Potter."

"And just what are you doing here, Harry Potter?" Nadara asked, seeing that none of her sisters desired to speak up just yet. "How did you come to be here and why?"

"I…I don't know where I am or…how I came here," Harry admitted, fighting to keep his attention on Nadara and not the searching glare of Hedith. "I just remember being taken by some…very mean people when it was getting dark out. They took me to some dark and scary forest. They were talking about cutting off my fingers and getting some gally…galelo…getting something as a reward. But then a lot of big spiders started attacking them. I fell into a river in a cave and…woke up here."

Throughout his little story, all of the old women were alternating between gazing at him and at the glowing blue liquid that surrounded him. For reasons he didn't understand, they were frowning in what seemed like anger or disappointment when he finished his story. Seeing that they were going to say anything, Harry hesitantly asked, "Wh-Where am I? Can I-I go home now?" Admittedly, he didn't _really_ want to go back to the Dursleys, but the _comfort_ of familiar surroundings.

"I'm afraid that you cannot," the third old lady said sadly, her expression having remained strictly neutral throughout Harry's story, unlike the others. "Tell me, Harry, what do you know of magic?"

"…Magic?" Harry asked, confused. "There's no such thing as magic…" Seeing the prominent glares and deepening frowns of the women around him, he hurriedly added, "That's what my aunt and uncle always say!"

"Do they now?" one of the women lining the right wall asked derisively. Even for as young as he was, Harry could tell that that was a question that didn't need an answer.

"Your relatives lied to you," the previous old lady said, holding out a hand. As she did so, Harry gasped in surprise a ball of fire suddenly burst to life within her palm. As Harry gawked, the fireball quickly disappeared and was replaced by a series of bubbles that floated out towards him, each glowing a brilliant color. Just as they almost reached him, they burst into bright flashes of light and sparkles. Seeing Harry's awestruck expression, the old woman smiled as she said, "Magic is _very_ real, and you have it too."

"I…I do?"

"Tell me, darkling!" Hedith snapped, losing patience with her sister Matriarch telling the dumb boy the most obvious truths of the world. "Where are your parents?! Why have you been sent here!"

"Hedith, clearly this child doesn't know those answers," Nadara interjected. "He was obviously raised among the commonfolk after his parents died and they were trying to keep him in ignorance of his gift."

"I agree," the third High Matriarch said somewhat hesitantly. "Aside from one or two things, he is every bit a little boy as our own great-grandchildren are."

"And how do you explain the _dark stain_ that we had to remove from him, Grata?!" Hedith hissed, glaring challengingly at the old woman. "You know as well as I do that only the truly darkest, the foulest, the most corrupt would dabble in such powers! _Clearly_ , this boy is the son of a dark _wizard_ who has been sent by his brethren to find and destroy us! Just like those thrice-cursed Myrddin _wizards_ had tried to do to ours long ago!"

"Will you _calm_ yourself, Hedith!" Nadara said, her tone biting and cold. "You are letting your fear of old legends and myths color your perception of this one little boy before you!"

"And _you_ are refusing to see the _danger_ he poses to our Tribe and our way of life as we know it!" Hedith shot back challengingly. "All because he is a little, ' _innocent'_ boy!"

"I don't…understand," Harry said hesitantly. "What are you…talking about?"

"Perhaps a short explanation for the boy will help him to understand and allow some of us to clear our heads," Grata was looking quite pointedly at Hedith as she spoke that last remark.

"I agree," Nadara said. Gesturing towards the glowing pool, a burst of water shot up and changed into a thick, reflective mist. Within a split second, the building that Harry had been standing in vanished and was replaced with a sky-blue void. Despite the void, he could clearly hear Nadara as she continued speaking, "It all began many years ago, Harry. Two thousand years ago, actually."

Suddenly the blue void cleared and Harry found himself standing in the midst of a village on the shore of the sea. He gawked in awe as he looked around. He wasn't sure what was going on or how it was possible, but everything he saw looked so real. The only thing that hinted towards what he was seeing wasn't real was that none of the villagers could see him and he couldn't hear anything that they were speaking. In fact, everything was utterly silent, except for Nadara's continued narration.

"Our ancestors were druids and lived peacefully back then, magical people like us and our nonmagical neighbors. We were few in number compared to them, but we were gifted with incredible powers that could grant boons, cast or lift curses, summon good weather, help crops grow strong and plentiful. Sure, there were a few problems between clans and tribes and villages, but things were generally peaceful. But then…the invasion began."

A glint of light from the shore drew Harry's attention. Turning, he gasped as he saw an enormous number of ships pulling up on the beach, disgorging large numbers of soldiers where red and using short swords. They fell upon the villagers with all of the wrath of a barbarian horde, killing, raping, thieving to their black hearts' content. The sight of the brutality, the blood, gore, and death left Harry feeling very nauseous and lightheaded. He collapsed limply to his hands and knees, fighting to keep himself from vomiting while tears fell freely down his face. Thankfully for him, the vision he was seeing rapidly faded back into a blue void.

"A savage war ensued," Nadara said softly, gently trying to ease Harry's obvious distress. Waves of calmness and comfort washed over Harry, feeling foreign and strange but more than welcome in his current state.

After several moments, he picked himself off the ground and looked around again. In front of him, two figures emerged, standing side by side facing him. One was that of a red-cloaked man, wearing armor and wielding a magnificent eagle-topped staff in one hand and a small stick in the other. Whoever this man was, he had a sinister sneer on his face, as though he thought he was superior to all others around. The second figure was a brunette woman wearing a grand cloak of white wolfskin and was clad in furs. Her face was calm, aged and lined, but it also had a smoothness and gentleness that hinted to the fact that she must've been quite the beauty in her younger years. Her exposed skin and body was decorated with exotic paints and tattoos.

"The people you are seeing are Myrddin Wyllt and Morganda Fatata, the two most powerful of the magicals of the age. Myrddin was the leader of the invading wizards. He found power and purpose in the invaders. He claimed that the time of the Druids was ending and that the Romans would bring about a new age of magic and culture. He joined the Romans and began forcefully converting many of our people to the way of the wizards. However, Morganda championed the Old Ways and rallied as many of the remaining Druids as she could to help her fight and expunge the Romans and their wizards from our island."

Harry watched, slack-jawed, as a titanic battle of magic suddenly was being waged before him between the two elderly people he'd seen moments ago. The Roman wizard was spewing magical bolts of energy, transforming the landscape in different ways, and teleporting about the battlefield with incredible speed and accuracy. However, Morganda was able to match him blow for blow almost exactly as she dodged the energy bolts, cancelled or deflected the transformed landscape, and summoned waves of elemental power to counterattack against the man, always seeming to know where he was even after he disappeared and reappeared in a different location. That isn't to say that they were fighting alone, each had several other people helping them in different ways as they fought to outmaneuver the other.

"Morganda and Myrddin fought against each other many times for many years, even long after the Romans settled and laid claim to our ancestral homelands. But for all of their efforts, neither Morganda nor Myrddin could overcome each other, whether on the battlefield or off. It seemed that they'd clash until the end of days, until the unthinkable happened."

Harry watched as a young man who was dressed and looked similarly to Morganda joined her against Myrddin. Fighting together, they started to finally take the advantage, pushing Myrddin back and constantly on the defensive. Then, after finally disarming Myrddin of his wand, Morganda moved forward to stab him with her spear. Instead, her recoiled in pain and convulsed as a blade suddenly burst out of her chest, retracting moments later. Morganda fell limply to the side, revealing it was her son who'd literally backstabbed her. Then her son moved over to the slowly recovering Myrddin and helped him up, handing him back his wand in the process. Myrddin heartily thanked him, backslapping him and laughing as though they were old friends.

"Her own son fell to the lies of power and riches that Myrddin and his ilk have been spreading for decades prior." The image changed to Morganda's son, now wielding a wand and wearing the garb of his former enemies, leading the charge of Roman wizards against the fleeing remains of the Druids' army. "Under his guidance, the Roman wizards were able to locate all previously hidden enclaves and hunted down nearly all of the remnants of resistance. However, a small group managed to get far enough away that they started making a plan to escape."

The scene changed dramatically. A large group of easily a thousand people were gathered under the canopy of a large and beautiful forest, their tents were set up in haphazard manners and the general chaotic feel of the camp told Harry that it had been built in a rush and meant to be torn down just as quickly. All of the people, men and women and children alike, had looks of utter defeat on their faces, knowing that their reckoning was fast approaching and that they couldn't escape it. Harry's heart easily went out for them in sympathy.

But then the view changed, zooming in a large rocky hill that jutted out of the forest. Harry easily spotted a large cave with a good sized pool of water and a small stream running through it. Gathered around the stream in a complex set of circles was a large group of men and women. They seemed to be chanting, swaying their bodies and arms about in perfect coordination that was utterly bewitching to watch. "The group of Druids had been pushed ever farther north until there was nowhere left to run. The Elders came to the realization that there was nowhere in this land left to run and that to resist was certain death, but they were too proud to submit to Roman dominion and allow that _traitor_ to rule over them. So they decided to do something terrible, something forbidden."

Before Harry's eyes, the Druids' movements had reached a fever pitch. All around them, the forest trees, grasses, bushes, even the wildlife suddenly started wilting, blackened, shriveled up and died. Through means that he didn't quite understand how, Harry realized that the Druids had drained the very life essence of the forest and the lands surrounding them to fuel their ritual. It was a horrible sight to behold, to watch the life get sapped out of the world like that.

After several long moments of this dying, a brilliant light suddenly flared to light out of the pool in the cave. It was so blinding that Harry had to turn away from it. The light died down shortly afterwards and he was able to turn back. What he saw took his breath from him. It was like the pool of water had suddenly been replaced with an open window, showing a vibrant green forest that was almost a mirror image of the one that had just died. The sight of this magical phenomenon elicited a wild cheer from the Druids, word passing quickly through the camp. Within short order, their camp was broken down and the people was jumping into the open window. This continued until only a small group of the original Druids remained.

"When the Druids created that doorway, they had tied its creation and stability to the stream that was flowing nearby. That means that as long as that stream continues to flow, it would remain open and active, allowing people and creatures to pass through it. They did that because the difficulty of keeping it open long enough for all their people to get through was too much. Even with the death of the forest, they could've only held it open for a minute. By tying it to the stream, they no longer had a time constriction. But by doing that, it also allowed the possibility that their enemies might find and follow them. So, before they left, the remaining Druids performed one final ritual to seal off the doorway."

Indeed, the Druids were performing their magic even as Nadara narrated it. First, they buried the stream underground, not even leaving a dry riverbed behind. Once that was done, they gathered around the portal as they quite literally brought the cave down around them, creating a massive rockslide. The avalanche reduced the previously large rocky hill to a deformed lump, effectively hiding the cave under unknown tons of dirt and rock. Suddenly, the original blue void returned as the story came to its end.

"And that is how we came to be," Nadara stated as the void vanished and Harry found himself once again in his original position in the center of the Matriarch Hall, surrounded by the lady leaders of the tribe. Nadara was smiling sadly at him as she finished with, "There is more to this story than just our origins, but we can save that until a later date."

"…D-D-Did all that…really happen?" Harry asked hesitantly, his feelings and thoughts trapped in a chaotic kaleidoscope of emotions.

" _Of course it did, little Darkling!_ " Hedith snapped, her disgust and anger no less tempered than it had been earlier.

Despite flinching away from her anger, Harry just looked at Hedith with a nonplussed look. "Dark…ling? What's that? Is it like 'darling'? Uh, no, you sound too angry for it to be like that."

While Hedith continued to simmer, Nadara and Grata both had small smiles cross their faces at Harry's questions, as did a small number of the other lesser Matriarchs. The rest of the women just had solemn expressions as they watched and quietly murmured to their neighbors.

"What Hedith means to say," Grata said calmly, ignoring the angry woman's slight glare easily. "Is that when we found you and were examining you for any injuries, we found something…disturbing. A dark entity was clinging to you, feed off of you."

For a long moment, Harry just stood and stared, frozen in incomprehension and slowly-dawning fear. "…What?"

"There was an evil spirit, like a ghost, latched onto you like a leech," one of the Matriarchs to his right clarified. "Don't worry though, we were able to remove and destroy it very quickly."

"…That's…good?" Harry asked hesitantly, not entirely sure he understood what they were saying, or if he even wanted to understand.

"How did you come to possess such an evil force, Darkling?!" Hedith demanded, glaring accusingly at him now that he realized his terrible secret was known to all. Any moment now he would finally break down and confess the truth of his sins and then she could finally end this farce and execute the brat before he brought any more harm to her home and family! "Answer me! _Now!_ "

Harry almost literally shrunk into himself out of fear at Hedith's shrieking voice and the overwhelming sense of righteous fury she seemed to be emitting. Marshalling what courage he could, he said, "I-I-I don't kn-know what you're talking about…madam?"

"Harry?" Nadara said, interrupting Hedith before she could speak again. "Did you know _anything_ about magic before you came here and met us?"

"No, madam!" he chirped out quickly, almost frantically. He knew there was something of great importance in that question, he just didn't know what or why. So he answered as truthfully and earnestly as he could.

"Do you remember anything about anyone doing something…strange and painful to you when you were younger?"

A flash of green and sickening laughter echoed across the deep recesses of his mind. "N-No, madam," he answered again, somewhat hesitantly. "Nothing until those big bullies started picking on me in the forest."

Despite Harry's best attempt, his slight stutter had been noticed by Nadara, who merely raised an eyebrow slightly. But she didn't press the matter, instead turning to look at Hedith. "As you can see, he was telling the truth, Hedith. The seals of truth haven't reacted in any way for this entire discussion. This boy has been nothing but honest to us."

"The seals are _not_ infallible! They _can_ be fooled!" Hedith hissed, glaring at her peer.

"Maybe," Grata said neutrally. "With the proper mental training, strong willpower, and immense magical strength. This boy may be unusually powerful, but he certainly has had no training in how to control his magic. Such raw power is easily monitored by the seals. I agree with Nadara; he _doesn't_ know how he came into possession of that entity. Let's move onto the next topic of discussion, I grow weary of all this back and forth arguing here."

"I agree," Nadara nodded.

"Can I…go home now?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"I'm afraid not, boy," Grata answered, shaking her head slightly and sending the massive number of braided beads in her hair swaying and rattling. She scarcely waited for them to settle before continuing, "Not only is it forbidden for anyone of Terra to journey back to Earth, but we have long since forgotten where the portal between worlds is located anymore. I'm afraid that you are as trapped here as we are."

"Wh-What?" Harry stuttered, eyes wide in surprise and fear. He wasn't really scared of where he was. It was a beautiful world and looked to be extremely interesting and fun, much more than back in England. But just the same, he was being told that he could never return back to the place that he was most familiar with, where things made sense, where he had called home all of his short life even though he hated it. "I'm…stuck here…with you guys?"

"Yes and no," Nadara said, her head bowing slightly in slight shame. "You are trapped here on Terra, but you cannot stay with us."

"Wha—?"

"There are laws," Grata stated. "Laws that were created centuries ago when other Outlanders, such as yourself, had suddenly arrived in our lands. But they were a black-hearted, greedy, and spiteful people who wanted to rule over us because they were 'better' than us. We now forbid any Outlanders from entering our village or interacting with our Tribe in anyway."

"Until _you_ arrived, Darkling!" Hedith spat out. "We should've crushed your skull and tossed your corpse into the forest for the animals to feast on!"

"We are _not_ barbarians, Hedith!" one of the Matriarchs declared loudly. That statement was followed with a quiet but reluctant rumble of agreement circling through the surrounding crowd. "The least we could do for a small child like this was to heal, feed, and clothe him _before_ banishing him!"

"…So, I have to leave?" Harry asked quietly, his face dropping in depression and shame. He hadn't even done anything wrong and already these new people didn't like him and were making him leave. Why? It wasn't fair!

"I'm afraid so, young one," Nadara confirmed, nodding sadly. Looking up and around her fellows, she loudly asked, "Does anyone have any further questions for the young one?"

Though there were a few thoughtful expressions, none of the women spoke up. "Very well then. I do believe we can end this little council meeting. I'll escort young Harry back to his cottage and then to the gates following that." Like a lightbulb dying, the interconnected glowing designs under Harry's feet suddenly went out and vanished as though they'd never existed.

* * *

A short time later, Harry found himself standing at the foot of a set of large wooden gates. The gates were located in the center of a large barricade that stretched between the narrowest point of a pair of steep rocky cliffs with a wide but shallow stream running underneath the left corner. The structure was made up of entire tree logs that must've been as thick around as Harry's whole body, as well as fire-hardened mudbricks and rock to reinforce the wood. To Harry's small stature, the wall and gates towered over him like a skyscraper. With how young and isolated he had been, it was easily the largest and mightiest creation ever created by man in his mind.

"Woooow," Harry breathed in awe, eyes wide as he gawked.

"Impressive?" Nadara asked, smiling slightly. But her smile was also a bit more tempered than it might've been. "Don't get _too_ impressed. I've seen some of the structures that the Knights of Morgana and Truebloods have built. This is nothing compared to them, sadly."

"Knights? Truebloods? What are those?" Harry asked as they continued their slow walk towards the locked gate. Slung over his shoulder was a large leather satchel that was filled to bursting with some apples, strips of jerky, a loaf of bread, and a roll of leather to serve as a sleeping bag. It weighed down pretty heavily on his small, slight frame, but he bore with no complaints. Thrust into his pants' belt was his gilded dagger and a very basic stone hatchet that Nadara had managed to procure for him.

"They are two more Tribes that live nearby," the old woman explained as she waved her hand towards the locked gate absentmindedly. Seemingly automatically, the large planks that barred the doors slowly slid to the sides into recesses within the wall. Once done, the doors slowly slid open with loud wooden groans. But neither she nor Harry paid that much mind as Nadara continued her explanation. "The Knights live atop a large fortified mount (1) next to the sea to the south and east. And the Truebloods have built a village upon a large island (2) to the south and west. They are the closest of the Tribes to us and should likely offer you safety if you manage to reach them."

As they passed under the thick wall, Harry paused for a moment to look out into the wilderness beyond. From this somewhat elevated vantage point, the jungle was even more visible than it had been earlier. Despite how beautiful and lush it seemed, with even a few of the longneck dinosaurs visible poking out between gaps in the trees, Harry felt a sudden wave of fear hit him. Out there, he knew there was danger. There was a very real possibility that he'd die, maybe within just a few minutes of him entering the treeline! He…He was scared to leave. Out there, death was practically assured. In here, even with all of the people who clearly hated him for being an Outlander, he was at least somewhat safer.

Noticing that Harry had stopped, Nadara turned back to look down upon him with a remorseful expression. Though he didn't know it, the boy's magic was reacting to his mood quite strongly now that the dark entity had been removed. Waves of fear and sadness were washing off him like ripples in a lake. Reaching out, she gently laid a comforting hand upon his shoulder, causing him to look up at her with wet eyes.

"I know that this marks the beginning of a very hard time for you," she said soothingly. "You will be tried and tested, hurt and maybe even killed. But I want you to know, you won't be alone. Not entirely."

"Huh?"

Looking out at the forest again, she waved her hand beckoningly. Harry turned to watch for a few moments, confusion written all over his face. Then, before his eyes, a small clump of the jungle seemed to peel itself out of the trees and dropped silently to the ground a few paces away from the outer gates. As the clump stood up to a towering height, Harry realized that it was actually a man with massive bulging muscles that were visible even through his clothes, dressed in dark leather that had wooden armor interwoven into it with lots of beads, flowers, and leaves for camouflage. Despite the hood pulled over his head, his long hair and beard, graying from age, still hung out slightly and showed a creased and suntanned face. Slung over his back was a large pack of arrows, a spear, and a hunter's bow. All in all, he was a massive beast of a man, an incredible display that told Harry everything he needed to know. He was a man who _lived_ out among the wilds with the dinosaurs.

"Mrs. Nadara, who's he?" Harry asked as the man quietly approached, his head downcast in obvious submission to the High Matriarch.

"This man is an exile of our Tribe, just like you are," she said. "He is the one who found you and brought you to us. I have asked for him to help you learn everything you need to know to survive out there. Learn well, Harry Potter, for what he teaches you will save your life." Before Harry could ask another question, Nadara turned and walked back through the gate, which slammed shut and relocked itself with a resounding finality.

Gulping nervously, Harry turned back to the man, eyes wide as he awkwardly waited for the man to speak. The man meanwhile was observing Harry, searching his expression and studying his body. It made Harry feel even more nervous and uncomfortable. After a long moment, the man nodded and turned to return back to the forest. After a few steps, he stopped and beckoned Harry to follow. Gulping back his fear and marshalling his courage, Harry did just that.

* * *

( **Author's Note** ) Sorry about the long wait. The conversation between Matriarchs just butchered my muse for some reason. But now that some of the backstory is done, we can finally get to the part where a lot of us really want it to go. Harry learning to hunt and survive, meeting and interacting with various dinosaurs, and maybe a few other surprises. Depending on your reviews, I may or may not expand this portion of the story to introduce some of the other Tribes and what their histories are.

Also, try to remember that for the Tribes' histories, they may or may not be entirely truthful. History is written by the victors and the older a story becomes, the more it has the potential to get warped. So don't take the visions of what Harry as being totally 100% accurate. Those vision were generated by what the Matriarchs _assume_ it was like back then and what they were _told_ had happened.

One final note, **Fiori75** and I have been in intense discussions for a while now about whether this story would work better as an original story (or story series), to sever all ties to Harry Potter-verse and make it utterly new. With the way our discussions have been going, there's a strong likelihood that we will do that. If we did, would any of you guys actually read it?

1\. Edinburgh Castle  
2\. Craignure, Isle of Mull

The Modron Tribe is located within central Scotland, in the Cairngorms Mountains. Kudos to anyone who can guess where I got the name 'Modron' from!


	4. Hunting Lessons

**.**

 **Harry Potter and the World of Dinosaurs  
** By: Tellemicus Sundance  
 _Chapter 4—Hunting Lessons_

 **April 1988  
The Wilds (Southern Scotland), Terra**

Almost four years had passed since Harry had arrived in this new world. He had quickly learned that days started very early because there was always too much to do and too little time to do it in. This last fact was especially true for him and his mentor, Jarl, since there was only the two of them. Though he never said it, Harry always felt that he was a rather big burden that had been thrust on Jarl's shoulders by the High Matriarchs. It was an idea that didn't sit well with the young child, who did everything he could to learn and help the elderly man as best he could. Harry had quickly developed a very real desire to never disappoint Jarl, to prove that he wasn't a burden and that there was value in teaching and protecting him. Sadly, Harry doubted that he'd ever really receive the man's approval.

Despite whatever misgivings the stoic man might've had, Jarl did spend the majority of their four years together teaching Harry many things. Some of the stuff included identifying many of the different plants, flowers, berries, fruits, and trees, which could either be used in basic herbal remedies or were poisonous to eat or even touch. He also learned how to forage, store, and cook foodstuffs safely. How to care for his clothes and equipment, where sewing was absolutely essential. He had soon realized that clothing had an unsettling habit of rapidly and constantly wearing down or getting torn. And though he wasn't yet strong enough to wield one, Jarl had also taught him how to craft various weapons to hunt and defend himself with like spears, bows, arrows, and simple hatchets.

But no matter how much he tried, Harry felt like he could never quite work fast enough to finish his set of chores before the sun went down. Nighttime was a very dangerous time in the forest because that was when the pack hunters, the raptors as Jarl told him they were called, were usually most active. Alas, when the sun fell, they hunkered down, went silent, and lit no fires if they were out in the forest, lest they attract those devious tricksters. Harry hadn't seen anything more than a few shadowy glimpses of them as they sometimes raced past the trees where they hid, but Jarl said that they were some of the smartest animals out there and that they never _ever_ hunted alone.

Yawning as he sat up and stretched his arms, the dark-haired boy looked around at his and Jarl's current home. They had to recently abandon Jarl's old treehouse after the raptors had somehow managed to scale the tree and nearly broke into it during the night. If not for some terror-induced explosion of overpowered magic from Harry during that frightful encounter, the pair of them would've surely died. The blast killed about five raptors and blew the entire upper portion of the tree to splinters. The sheer outburst of power had quickly knocked Harry out from exhaustion and Jarl was busy trying to keep the rest of the structure from collapsing completely. But instead of pressing their advantage, the raptors that survived the initial shockwave had fled in fear of the magical predator they had unknowingly provoked.

Now, the pair of exiles had settled into a deep cave system that worked its way through the rugged mountains and valleys. After scouting out the tunnels carefully, Jarl decided to use them and had used his own magic collapse a part of the passage that led deeper into the caverns below. Thus, they created their own little cavern near the top of a high hill that had a very high vantage point and little vegetation, so no dinosaurs could sneak up on them. But Jarl and Harry had also taken it a step further and began hiding the cave entrance behind a series of boulders and hanging grapevines. If you didn't know exactly what to look for, the entrance was practically invisible with the grapevines further disguising their scents. Once done, the duo had begun converting it into livable space.

Harry was now lying in the main chamber that was their dining room, bedroom, and common room. He had woken upon a mat consisting of only a leather bedroll lying atop a mass of dried grass. At the head of his mat, there was a small chest he'd built recently that held some of his personal effects like his tools and spare clothing. Burning in the center of the chamber was the smoldering remains of last night's fire, over which were two skewers of slightly charred meat and roasted vegetables. Next to the fire was a couple of clay pots, pans, and large jug of freshwater. And nestled on the opposite side of the chamber was Jarl's bedroll, predictably empty as the man was an obsessive early-riser.

Standing up and stretching his arms and back, Harry knelt down and grabbed his spear. It was a simple thing of a roughhewn shaft almost half a size taller than himself with a steel tip on the end. When Harry had asked where Jarl had gotten the metal for the tip from, the man had simply said, 'Traded with the Knights.' Harry wasn't sure if he believed that, since Jarl was extremely reserved and seemed to share the Modron Tribe's dislike of outlanders, of which the Knights of Morgana clearly were somehow.

Shaking his head to clear the wandering thoughts from his mind, Harry crouched down to the fire and grabbed a stick of food. Impaled upon it were several chunks of cooked, somewhat warm chirper meat, a few slices of orange peppers, and several quartered chunks of onion, all cooked and fried. Taking idle bites and enjoying the taste of the cool, cooked meat and vegetables, Harry left his cave and headed upwards for the surface. Using his spear as a walking stick, he walked mostly by memory as he ate and rubbed the sleep sand from his eyes with his spare hand.

By the time he'd reached the entrance, Harry had finished his small breakfast and shielded his sensitive eyes to the blinding light of the morning sun as it peeked through the foliage and trees. Raising his voice, Harry called out, "Jarl? You out here?" He called out softly, careful not to raise his voice _too_ loudly.

"Here," the old man's voice answered from above Harry, surprising the boy. Turning around quickly, Harry spotted Jarl standing upon a crevice in the rock over the cavern entrance almost ten meters up. The man's expression was as stern as always as he gazed down at Harry with a frown. "You still aren't surveying the land for predators or enemies before you leave the cave, Harry. That'll get you _killed_ one day."

First thing in the morning and he's once again already disappointed Jarl. Typical. Still, Harry bowed his head in depression and acknowledgement of the statement. "Yes sir."

"From now on," Jarl declared, earning Harry's attention again. "I'm going to start throwing rocks at you each time you fail to find me each morning. _Always_ mind your surroundings."

"Yes sir," Harry repeated glumly.

Dropping down to the ground, Jarl landed with a heavy thump and a light rustle of leather clothing. As he stood back up, he gazed down critically at Harry for a long moment before letting out a low sigh. "Today, we're going to do something different."

This statement drew Harry's interest immediately. "Huh?"

Usually, Harry would spend his days following Jarl as the man went on hunts, foraged for food, or searched for any supplies they needed. Due to his age and inexperience, Harry could do little more than watch and learn from the reclusive man, who often only spoke when he had something important say. Since he was so young, small, and weak, Harry only ever got to help with anything whenever they were safely back at their old treehouse or new cavern home.

"Today, I'm going to teach you to hunt," Jarl stated, looking meaningfully down at Harry. "After that, you will be responsible for catching _your own_ food."

Though surprised, Harry quickly smiled in happiness. _Finally_ , if he could hunt for and by himself, he might not be as much of a burden on Jarl! He nodded excitedly at the large man, and eagerly followed him as they headed out into the forest beyond.

* * *

Crouched down low in a bushel of ferns, Harry watched as a small herd of Triceratops grazed in the clearing up ahead. He was safely hidden not only by the ferns, but also out of easy reach of the dinosaurs thanks to the rock outcropping they were situated on. Even with as long as he'd been here and seen these creatures, his awe and love of them fostered during his time with his relatives still lingered strongly in his mind. He truly did love dinosaurs. They were so beautiful and exotic and so _alive_ , nothing like the sterile, boring, and mundane world he'd been trapped in with his relatives.

"Three-horns," Jarl stated softly, speaking lowly but not whispering. Whispers carried far on the wind and could alert the creatures to their presence. "They are big, lumbering, and have poor eyesight. But don't let that fool you. They have superb senses of spatial awareness."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, fingers flexing on his spear shaft in restless excitement.

"You must never approach them on the ground," Jarl explained. "They are highly sensitive to tremors and vibrations in the earth. Even if you were perfectly silent, one step on the ground would alert them to your presence and they would react as needed."

Seeing something odd about the herd, Harry pointed towards what caught his attention, "Why do those ones have their horns bent upwards?"

Of the six Triceratops, two of them were clearly the eldest, covered in scars and the body colors being rather faded. The other four were somewhat smaller in comparison, but more brightly colored and strangely had the two horns above their eyes pointed upwards in rather drastic angles. Harry hadn't seen too many Triceratops before, but none of them were like that. "Are they sick or something?"

"Not sick, far from it," Jarl said, sending Harry a small smile as he remembered asking that same question of his own father once. "Those four are adolescents, teenagers, not fully grown yet. Once they are fully grown, their horns will drop." Moving to the side, he beckoned Harry to follow. "Come, this herd is too dangerous for you to hunt just yet."

Harry nodded after sending the herd one last glance. Following Jarl up into the tree they'd vacated a few minutes earlier, Harry pulled himself after the older and stronger man as quickly as he could. But no matter how fast he tried, Harry just couldn't seem to catch up to man, who stopped on a particularly thick branch and waited patiently for his student to reach him. As he waited, Jarl held out a hand to the side, feeling the soft winds as he listened to the calls and cries of the forest.

Once the boy had finally reached him on the limb, Jarl gave him a moment to catch his breath and rest his arms. The boy might've had weak arms when they'd first met, but he was proving himself to be surprisingly self-reliant, independent, and a quick learner. Jarl had no doubt that in a few years' time, he would overtake his ability to teach him anything of importance and would be able to survive on his own. And that was a day he was finding himself starting to somewhat dread

* * *

 **Forbidden Forest, Earth**

He had made many mistakes over his long life, _many_ mistakes. But, for all of his mistakes, he just couldn't remember if he'd ever made such a monumentally big blunder as what he'd just realized. It was so glaringly obvious! The answer was so incredibly simple that it nearly made him want to pound his head against his desk in frustration and dumbfounded embarrassment. And the saddest thing was that he only realized this when he wasn't even trying to figure it out!

It had come to him over dinner, listening to Rubeus and Silvanus discussing the strange new animal calls and activity had begun cropping up in recent months. The discussion was actually quite interesting since both Rubeus and Silvanus were the undisputed experts of all the different types of magical creatures that resided in the forest, and yet neither of them could definitively say what new types of creatures were apparently in there now. Silvanus declared quite strongly that the noises were similar to elephants and bison. But Rubeus was convinced that he was hearing the chirping calls of some kind of bird or draconic hissing roars.

" _Bah_ ," Rubeus had finally complained as the argument was winding down, along with the meal. " _This nonsense has been going on ever since Aragog told me about some dark wizards hiding in the forest. I wonder if this is somehow their fault?_ "

It was just a casual throwaway line meant to either end the argument or start a new conversation. But when what Rubeus said finally clicked in Albus' mind, he had a very difficult time preventing himself from recoiling in shocked revelation. After the meal, Albus had hurried down to the forest as quickly as his old legs could carry him, heading down the heavily overgrown path that led to the Centaur village.

Reaching the Centaur village relatively unopposed by the numerous guards and warriors who patrolled around it was a very rare feat, doubly so if the being approaching was a wizard. However, Dumbledore was a very well-known and grudgingly respected man by the Centaurs. They may have hated all wizards on principle, but even they recognized and respected his magical prowess and knowledge. So, the bearded old man was able to walk calmly into the village center with only annoyed and angry glares directed at him, rather than the numerous spears and arrows the guards all held.

As his luck would have it, Dumbledore entered the village center in the midst of a full council meeting between the ruling warriors and elders. Knowing it'd be impolite to interrupt their discussion, Dumbledore chose to move off to the side and wait for the main meeting to end before he approached. This served the dual purpose of not possibly offending the _very_ prideful creatures, but it also allowed him to essentially eavesdrop on how life in the forest has been progressing lately.

"We _cannot_ abide these creatures any longer!" an angry sounding warrior was saying as Dumbledore arrived. "For _too long_ , we have allowed numerous others to be dropped into our forest by the damned wizards! They think our forest is their own personal magical reserve! Where they release any and all manner of creatures into our forest and not care for the ramifications and upheavals the new creatures will cause! No! We _cannot_ allow these new creatures free reign!"

"We have heard your arguments before, Bane," said Caesar, a Centaur who was so old that all of his fur and long mane had gone white. "But the council stands by its earlier choice."

"You _seriously_ think those land wyrms will simply remain _content_ with hunting and battling the spiders?!" the young and aggressive Bane demanded hotly in a smoldering fury. " _They will_ _ **not**_ _!_ Already, my scouts have reported that the wyrms are starting to venture down here! They'll be sniffing around the walls _within days_!"

"And when they start intruding upon our lands, we will show them the error of their choice," Caesar stated bluntly.

"This is the choice of the council," agreed another Centaur. "And so it shall remain."

"This is a mistake!" Bane bit out, his face dark and his eyes narrowed in barely controlled anger. Without another word, he turned and stalked off, taking with him a large posse of twenty other guards and warriors. A lot of the other bystanders of the meeting also started turning and departing, thinking the show was over.

Seeing his chance, Dumbledore started moving forward. "Pardon my intrusion," he called out softly, respectfully, quickly garnering the attention of the remaining council. "But a matter of certain importance has been brought to my attention, and I felt the need to ask for your assistance, honored Elders."

"Dumbledore," greeted Caesar with a carefully neutral expression.

"Caesar," Dumbledore bowed his head very slightly out of respect. Looking up at the towering Centaur as he reached to former position Bane had once stood in, standing squarely center before the council. "If it's not too presumptuous to ask, but what was this council about? What are these 'land wyrms' that Mr. Bane had mentioned?"

"Several strange new types of draconic magical creatures that have begun appearing within our forest in recent months," Caesar answered, looking at the wizard with a slightly puzzled expression. "You did not know of this?"

"I'm afraid I have not been informed of any new additions to the forest by the Ministry," Dumbledore stated, his mind awhirl for a few moments. But then he carefully set his thoughts aside and refocused on the matter at hand. "I have a fairly strong connection to the Ministry and its numerous Departments. So, I can assure you that if there are indeed new creatures appearing, then the Ministry most assuredly has not been involved. I am quite certain my friends there at the least would've informed me of such things occurring."

One of the elders snorted derisively. "Just as your kind 'did not _knowingly intend_ to release the Class-5 species of Acromantula within the forest.' Tell us, wizard, will _this_ invasive species receive the same 'careful attention' as the last unintended release?"

"Then we are left in a quandary," another of the elders said, interrupting any reply or rebuke Dumbledore could've mustered in defense. The elder Centaur was looking quite frustrated.

"Is there a purpose to your visit this day, Dumbledore?" Caesar asked, seeking to end this discussion quickly. As much as Caesar might've respected the old man, he tolerated him just barely more than he tolerated the gentle giant oaf Hagrid.

"Oh yes, forgive me," Dumbledore said, knowing better than to test the Centaurs' patience, which was clearly already frayed from the previous meeting. "I have recently had a small revelation and was hoping to gain some assistance from some of your trackers to prove or disprove my assumption." Seeing the growing annoyance and impatience in the Centaurs' expressions, he hurriedly finished with, "A few years ago, a young wizard boy, Harry Potter, had suddenly gone missing from his place of residence. Since then, I and many others have been scouring the Wizarding World in search of him. It was only this evening that I realized there is one place we haven't looked just yet, the forest." He gestured vaguely in a sweep to the side, indicating the woodland surrounding them.

"And since we Centaurs know the forest best, you wish to ask for our help," Caesar stated, his expression once again neutral and cold. "And why should we help?"

"I wouldn't presume to ask for this without offering something in return," Dumbledore countered. "Once we're finished here, I will approach the Ministry and get them to investigate these 'land wyrms' who have been appearing. Perhaps there's an illegal breeder who's creating new species and unleashing here? Whatever the case, we will try to set this matter straight as quickly as possible."

"Oh yes," one of the other elders sneered in disgust. "Just open our gates and allow you wizards to come gallivanting into our home, stomping about and disturbing sacred places that aren't meant to be touched, before deciding to just leave the damn things in our forest like _50 years ago_ because the manpower needed to exterminate such a threat would be 'costly'. Expecting that we'll happily just wave you off with hugs and smiles after you've done nothing but further complicate matters! Yes, let's just _do that!_ " There was absolutely no mistaking the utmost hatred and malice in the old lady's voice as she glared heatedly down at the small, old man.

"I did not mean to imply—"

"Oh, you _more than_ _**implied**_ it!" she snapped back.

"That's enough," Caesar interrupted, holding out his palm to the lady elder in a silencing gesture. "While I agree having you wizards trying to find out what's happening would be nice, I also agree that you are not welcome in our forest either."

Another elder spoke up, this one much more calm and serene. "We can help you search for where or if the boy of destiny is within this forest, but only if no other wizard will be allowed within during or after this search. If you wish to get involved with the land wyrms, you will do so from the _outside_."

Dumbledore was frowning, but ultimately nodded in his head in agreement. It certainly wasn't the bargain he'd have wanted, but it would have to do until he secured their help. This issue with the land wyrms could lead to a potentially catastrophic breach in the Statute of Secrecy. If there really was a wizard out there that was breeding new and dangerous types of draconic creatures, then this needed to be resolved quickly. And whether the Centaurs agreed or not, the quickest and easiest way of doing this was by getting some extra and experienced wands into the forest to do a proper and thorough investigation of the said beasts.

But that could come later. For now, he needed to focus on the prize: finding Harry Potter.

* * *

 **The Wilds, Terra**

From the safety of a high tree, Harry watched as a small herd of bipedal dinosaurs with large duckbill-shaped heads grazed in the clearing ahead of them. The herd only numbered six, with two adults and four juveniles that couldn't have been more than four years old. Harry could guess just based on how small they were compared to their parents, barely reaching up their parents' kneecaps. Despite being so short, they were still nearly head and shoulders taller than Harry himself!

"Duckbills again," Harry said quietly to Jarl, who was leaning against the tree trunks near him.

"Yes," Jarl answered just as quietly. "Duckbills are the most plentiful of the grass-eating dinosaurs. Unlike most others, these dinosaurs have little intelligence, acting more on simple instinct. They survive by simply being the most numerous."

"But still dangerous?" Harry asked, already guessing the answer.

" _All_ dinosaurs are dangerous, boy," Jarl stated, glancing down at the child with an intense stare. "All of them have either claws, size, or weight, any of which can kill a man in an instant if we're not careful. Their power and strength must be respected _at all times_. Remember that."

Nodding in understanding, Harry returned his gaze to the herd, waiting and watching for the right opportunity. As he watched, he saw that one of the juveniles had foolishly started wandering away from the rest of its family. And, if Harry's memory was right, the direction it was heading towards was filled with jagged and uneven rocks and boulders. Most of the flatfooted dinosaurs avoided the area because of the unsteady terrain made it very difficult to balance and walk upon for them. The duckbills weren't quite as affected, but it did still limit their mobility.

Glancing back at Jarl to see if he saw this as well, Harry found the man was already looking upon him with a raised brow.

"So, got any ideas for how to hunt that one?" Jarl asked bluntly, his gaze steady as he waited for an answer.

"M-Me?" Harry asked quite surprised. This was the first time Jarl had ever asked _him_ for what they should do.

"Yes," the middle-aged hermit stated. "This hunt is _yours_. _You_ must select the prey. _You_ must figure out the strategy. _You_ must learn what to do. I will _help_ , but I will not _lead_. This is a learning experience for _you_."

Nodding meekly, Harry turned back to the grazing herd and the slowly wandering juvenile. Narrowing his eyes in contemplation, Harry tried to think of how he should go about doing this. The easiest method was to wait for the juvenile to walk under a tree and drop down onto its back, stabbing it wherever he could to do as much damage as he could. It didn't even necessarily have to be the one that was wandering away, any one of them would've been acceptable. However, if the juvenile started crying out in pain, wouldn't that attract the parents? ' _Probably_ ,' he guessed, preferring to error on the side of caution.

He needed to keep the parents away from the juvenile. Or he needed to kill the juvenile quickly enough so that it couldn't call for help. The thought of the trouble and danger such a thing would cause sent a jolt of fear and adrenaline up his spine and through his body.

Looking over at Jarl as he clenched his spear and fist tightly to hide the small shivers induced by his adrenaline, Harry said, "I'll go and drop onto its back, stab it as hard and deep as I can. Go for the neck and between the ribs, right? Then I'll climb back up the tree and wait for it to die."

"Basic, but a good plan," Jarl acknowledged, nodding his head to the boy. Staring imploringly into the boy's eyes, he asked, "And what shall I be doing?"

"Eh, huh?" Harry stuttered out, blinking in surprise.

"This is a group hunt, boy," Jarl pointed out. "It is a foolish hunter that doesn't use _all_ he has available to help in that."

Dropping his head in shame and embarrassment in the reprimand, Harry stayed quiet for a moment as he thought. With clear hesitation, he said, "You can…help me drop down and kill it? Then, help me carry it back home?"

Nodding in easy agreement, Jarl gestured Harry to move. Slipping carefully out of the tree, they dropped down to the ground and picked their way through the trees. Using the same tricks of walking quietly in the brush that Jarl had been teaching him, Harry led the man in a roundabout path around the clearing and towards where he'd seen the duckbill heading towards. Harry knew that he couldn't travel through the trees, as was their wont when moving through the forest. This was because although it was safer for them up there, they were also usually much more visible and could easily attract the attention of their prey. Hence, he and Jarl began the long and slow process of stalking through the ferns and grasses of the area.

As they drew near the rock formations, the pair of them could hear the calls and movement of the baby duckbill become steadily louder and clearer. Circling around and climbing up the rocks, Harry peeked out over the top and sought out his prey. There, much closer than he'd first thought it'd be, was the duckbill. The dinosaur was carefully picking its way over the rocks near the base of the formation as it nipped at the ferns and a bush of raspberries that it'd found.

Sliding backwards carefully, Harry pointed towards the nearest tree. Jarl nodded as he turned and began pulling himself upwards. Slipping his spear into his quiver on his back, Harry began the slow process of hoisting himself as quietly up into the tree as he could. It was with growing ease and familiarity that Harry found himself balancing upon the large and thick limbs, moving quietly along their lengths, stepping carefully off one limb and onto another of another nearby tree. Moving towards and around the trunk of that tree, careful to stay out of the direct line of sight of the duckbill through the foliage, Harry approached the unsuspected creature.

They weren't directly above it, unfortunately. Though the dinosaur was still a youngling and very inexperienced, it was still smart enough to know to stay a respectable distance away from large trees. But it still wasn't smart enough to know just what the safest distance was. Grabbing his spear and carefully slipping out of the quiver, Harry glanced over at Jarl, who was also pulling out his own, much larger, spear. Angling the spearhead downwards, Harry gestured it towards the neck portion and then tapped his chest lightly. Then he gestured towards the duckbill's haunches and looked pointedly at Jarl, who nodded. Holding out his hand, he held out three fingers, two fingers, one finger.

As his fist clenched, both hunters took jumps out of the tree and quietly dropped down towards their prey. Harry's jump placed him right next to the duckbill's side, landing on a good-sized boulder that the raspberry bush was growing next to. As he landed, he immediately jabbed his spear forward into the tender-looking neck flesh, piercing the rubbery flesh to nearly half his spearhead's length. Dark red blood immediately covered the spear and started running down it and the top of the shaft. The choked cry of pain the dinosaur left was quickly silenced as Jarl's much more substantial weight landed upon it.

Thanks to surprise and the pain, the duckbill was wholly unprepared to support the weight of a full-grown man. The dinosaur collapsed in an awkward flop as Jarl hit it as heavily as he could. Instead of stabbing forward immediately, he waited until the dinosaur had fallen onto its side before he attacked. He buried his spear deeply into the belly of the creature, before quickly extracting it and jabbing forward again, aiming for the chest and the heart beating wildly behind it. That second stab wasn't entirely necessary, he knew, since the two wounds it'd already received to the neck and stomach were already fatal ones. No, this second stab was more meant as a mercy kill than anything else.

But Harry wasn't paying attention to that. He had quickly turned away from the dying creature as his face started rapidly paling. Moving off to the side slightly, he collapsed limply to his knees, gazing off unseeingly into the distance. He'd seen death and blood before, many times actually. In this world, in these wilds, it was impossible to have spent any significant time outside without having to see one creature kill another for various reasons. But this was the first time that he'd ever been the one to _cause_ it. The realization that he was solely responsible for this creature's death filled him with more remorse and guilt than he'd expected to feel. In fact, he made him so lightheaded than he barely caught himself from falling off the side of the boulder as his stomach heaved violently. It was only through sheer force of will that he didn't barf up his breakfast all over the berry bush.

As Harry was busy centering himself, Jarl moved off to the side and watched the deceased duckbill's small family unit carefully. The parent dinosaurs had must've heard the juvenile's death throes, for they'd ceased their grazing and were looking around the clearing with concentrated searching gazes. Letting out sharp commanding calls, the parents watched as the remaining younglings quickly returned and gathered around them. Seeing one of their younglings was missing, the mother duckbill let another return call. But when no response or movement answered her call, the family group realized what obviously happened. They all turned and left, trudging through the underbrush as quickly and quietly as they could. They did not wish to remain in the area where hunters clearly were.

Nodding in satisfaction, Jarl turned back to his young charge and moved over to him. Taking a seat on the boulder next to the convulsing boy, he gently laid his hand upon the boy's shoulder and gave him a soft, reassuring pat. At the touch, Harry froze, whether in fear, surprise, confusion, or some other emotion, Jarl didn't know. But when the boy glanced hesitantly back at him over his shoulder, the elderly man gave him a small smile, barely visible through his beard and mustache.

No words were spoken because, really, there were none that were needed.

* * *

( **Author's Note** ) Sorry about the long, LONG wait for this chapter. Part of that was laziness on my end, plus having most of my focus on updating 'The Magic Revolution' instead. I just find myself having so much more fun writing that one than this one. Also, big time shout-out for my good friend **Fiori75** for his ever-lasting patience while helping me brainstorm, write, and edit this chapter over this past year!

But another part of the problem was the rather resounding and _extremely_ disappointing response I got from most of the reviewers who answered my question. Granted, a good portion of the blame probably falls on me. Looking back on it, I realize I'd worded the question wrongly. I didn't mean that I was going to make this story wholly original with no elements of the HP-verse.

What I meant to say was that I'd gotten several ideas for taking this story and making into a separate story using certain elements, ideas, histories, and other little stuff from _Harry Potter_ , The World Beneath, and a variety of other things. You know, stuff like the hidden Wizarding World, wands and magic use, vanquished Dark Lords and lost heroes, etc. I never intended to _**stop** _ writing or posting this story, since that'd defeat the whole purpose of making this potential new story. So, I'd use this story as the base for the new one that I'd wanted to write and later publish (probably as an e-book).

But you guys have spoken! And the vote is an absolute and unanimous ' _ **FUCK NO!**_ ' for that story getting written.


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